


CEO Wanted

by annamator



Series: Saint Canard Cryptids [2]
Category: Darkwing Duck (Cartoon 1991), DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)
Genre: Abuse, Canon Rewrite, Crimes & Criminals, Gen, Gun Violence, Homophobia, Kidnapping, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Sex Work, Villains, White Collar Crime
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-18
Updated: 2020-11-20
Packaged: 2021-02-08 07:40:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 25,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21472420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/annamator/pseuds/annamator
Summary: Sometimes you have to ask yourself; are you job hunting? Or is the job hunting you? You should always be careful when answering ads in the newspapers of Saint Canard.
Relationships: Liquidator/Original Character, Reginald Bushroot/Liquidator
Series: Saint Canard Cryptids [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1647364
Comments: 14
Kudos: 29





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: the characters you will be learning/reading about are purely OCs so don’t strain yourself trying to make any connections. So sit back and enjoy!

They told him the corporate workplace was a dog-eat-dog world. Luckily, Patrick knew how to navigate it. The dog had spent his mediocre life at countless offices to intern in while he decided to earn his business degree. The degree came naturally as the jobs did. 

However, it was never enough. 

It was never enough for Patrick Easton to earn employee of the month for the third consecutive time in a row. It was never enough to be considered the most popular or the most successful in his environments. And no matter what the office job was, he never seemed to be pleased with his work as much as his higher-ups were. 

Patrick was always impeccable with his timing and his work ethic. No one questioned him. His work wasn’t very notable, though, so no one gave him a second look, either. He was tired of the mediocrity. He was tired of the office politics. Though he thought about starting his own business, he was rejected by loan services many times. 

So he was stuck. 

At least, that’s what he told himself while he browsed the paper under the Job Listings section. He was on his lunch break, so he had the time. Patrick wanted out from his latest job. And nothing sounded more interesting to him than the following: 

_ CEO Wanted _

Patrick could hardly believe his eyes, so he read on.

_ Tired of your mundane life? Have you always wanted to be a major CEO to one of Saint Canard’s established companies? Have you wanted to make millions by just sitting around while others did the work for you? _

_ Then join Bud’s Essentials and become the CEO you’ve always destined to be! _

_ (45.768120, -3.450670 every 40 minutes) _

At first, Patrick thought it was some kind of prank. Even as he circled the listing, he chuckled to himself. It had to have been some kind of prank from an employee who worked at that company. He wondered if they were about as fed up with the office lifestyle as he was. Maybe that person had a personal grudge against the CEO. 

Patrick didn’t dwell on it too much while he continued to look through other listings. A day or two went by and Patrick had been rejected by every listing he had applied for on that one page. Frustrated, he opened up another one of Saint Canard’s newspapers and looked at the job listings again. This time, he was in his cubicle while he scanned the list. 

_ CEO Wanted _

It caught his eye again. Patrick almost doubted he had a different paper in his grasp. It was the same exact listing with the same cryptic numbers at the end of the descriptor. It wasn’t a phone number or a code. Only then, it occurred to Patrick right at that moment that they were coordinates. Instructions. 

Patrick glanced at the clock. It was only a few minutes until his lunch break and just about twenty minutes on the hour. He had some time. Before he did anything, however, he punched in the coordinates into his phone. 

All that popped up on his map was a four-way street in the middle of Saint Canard’s richest business district. Surely it couldn’t be some kind of trap if this meeting place was set in the middle of a busy city? 

After grabbing his jacket, Patrick walked out of his job and onto the streets. He hailed a cab and relayed an address on his phone near the coordinates. It didn’t take too long before they approached the address and Patrick paid his driver. 

Overall, Patrick was about five minutes early, which gave him enough time to survey his surroundings. He was surprised no one was lining up around the buildings. Then again, maybe everyone else had more common sense. He felt his heart in his throat as the clock was steadily approaching the forty minute mark. 

After a few more minutes, Patrick felt his heart rate return to normal. He looked around more carefully, watching the small bustle of office workers shuffling along. Everyone looked like they had somewhere else to be. Patrick looked at his phone’s clock again when it read 2 o’clock on the dot, feeling an onset of disappointment cloud his mind. 

Having never stepped far from the curb, Patrick hailed for a cab. Before the yellow cab could maneuver closer, however, a huge black SUV cut it off and parked directly in front of Patrick. Immediately, the back door closest to him swung open and revealed two dogs and a duck inside the vehicle. All three of them were wearing sunglasses and business attire. The one in the back brandished a gun and pointed it directly at Patrick.

“Give me the phone and get in,” they demanded. 

Patrick assessed his situation and opted to comply as calmly as possible. Even though he felt panic deep in his bones, he tried his best not to show it. Once he was inside the vehicle, a bag was placed over his head and he felt zip ties being wrapped around his wrists. 

“What do you want with me?” Patrick asked. 

“Just a bit of fun, Pup. Don’t worry your pretty little head about it,” a voice said, Patrick guessed it was the driver. He dubbed him, The Asshole.

“He’s just about perfect. You think Boss-man will be pleased?” Patrick decided to call this other voice, The Jerk.

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. First, let’s have some fun. We can’t break the routine just because of his looks,” the third and final voice said; Patrick went with The Bastard. 

Patrick was dreading every worst case scenario in his mind while they drove along. Even though he knew he didn’t deserve any of this, Patrick reminded himself that Saint Canard was a cesspool of violence and crime. Regardless of kind or creed, someone was a victim at some point. His time was now.

When the vehicle stopped, Patrick felt his stomach drop. He was starting to lose his cool by the minute. Especially when one of the thugs pulled him from the car. He tried to fight back, but he was jerked forwards violently. Patrick wasn’t a weak dog by any means. He had spent a lot of his off days at the gym. So for this goon to drag him around like a toy doll was something entirely new to him. 

Patrick felt his knees hit first as he was pushed towards the solid ground. The hood was removed and he looked again at his kidnappers. “Please, I didn’t do anything. I swear. I’m just a pencil-pusher,” Patrick tried. 

“I’m starting to think he’s over-qualified. How ‘bout you guys?” The Asshole, the bigger of the kidnappers chuckled. 

Out of nowhere, a fist came flying towards his face and hit his muzzle hard. Patrick couldn’t help but yelp a little at the pain. The same goon punched him again quickly in the stomach, knocking the air out of him. Patrick groaned and bent in on himself to try to protect his gut. But the kidnapper simply propped him up so he could start beating him again.

This continued for what seemed like ages. Patrick was starting to regurgitate some blood. When there was a pause, he tried to speak, “P- please… I’ll tell you anything. I’ll give you anything. J- just let me go,” Patrick whined. 

“Oh no... Now he’s sounding a little less qualified,” The Jerk said from the sidelines with an amused look on his face.

When The Bastard who was beating him came in for another swing, Patrick tried to stand and headbutt his stomach. However, he was simply too sluggish and drained. 

“Oh-ho! There’s the fight!” The Asshole laughed. 

Patrick slumped onto one knee and panted heavily. “What… do you… want from me?” he growled, baring his teeth. 

“We want you to go back to work,” The Jerk said.

There was a large enough pause in the conversation to leave Patrick wildly confused. “What?” he asked.

“You’re gonna clean yourself up, then we want you to walk back to your day job. Once your there, we want you to log into your computer and reroute a minuscule amount of your work’s money directly to one of the many off-shore bank accounts Bud’s Essentials is connected to. Like an IV drip,” He finished.

Patrick was a little less confused but he wasn’t sure if these criminals knew just what they were asking. At his current office, financial wasn’t remotely where he had been working. He had zero access to it or their computers. He hadn’t even made a single friend from that floor. 

“And if I don’t?” Patrick asked.

“Then we come to your house later to kill you,” The Asshole said simply. 

“Right. Because you know me from just one look,” Patrick said in a mocking tone. 

The duck held Patrick’s phone in the air and wiggled it slightly. “Patrick Easton, age twenty-three and currently working full-time at Howell Industries. Not the biggest drop in the ocean, but it should suffice,” The Jerk said.

“I don’t even work in the financial department! I can’t do this, even if I wanted to!” Patrick roared. 

“Hear that? Even if he wanted to,” The Bastard finally spoke, casting an evil-looking grin on his face. 

“Somethin’ tells me he would. Eventually,” the bigger dog said.

“Look at it this way, pal: we’re just pushing you in the right direction, is all,” The Jerk said, almost proud of his statement. 

Patrick felt sick. Still, he wanted to preserve his life more than anything. So he nodded, “I’ll do it. I don’t know how, but I’ll do it,” He said in a frustrated tone.

“I’m sure you’ll figure somethin’ out before the work day ends. You seem like a smart guy,” The Asshole said. 

“And smart guys don’t snitch, right?” The Jerk asked. 

“Right,” Patrick said, feeling absolutely defeated. 

The bigger one pulled Patrick to his feet and dragged him across the warehouse floor until they came across a bathroom. He cut Patrick’s restraints with a knife, opened the door and shoved him inside. Patrick gripped the edge of the sink and growled at the other dog. The Asshole simply patted his holstered gun and leaned in the doorway.

Patrick huffed and turned to tend to his wounds. The thug who had walloped on him had done some real work. He was now sporting a bruised eye, and a random tuft of fur was missing from his muzzle. Not to mention the dried blood that had dripped from his mouth. 

Using the sink and what little toilet paper there was in the bathroom, Patrick cleaned himself up. The black eye was a little less swollen and the blood had been taken care of. 

Once Patrick was done, the kidnapper took his wrists and put another zip tie around them. Then, the bag went back on his head. After being manhandled back into the car, Patrick felt relieved to sit down properly again. 

The bag came off as soon as the car stopped. Patrick couldn’t help but notice they had parked a block away from his building. The kidnappers cut his zip tie again and threw him his phone. 

“We’ll text you the info soon. You try any funny business and we’ll come after you,” the duck warned again.

“Yeah, yeah, I get it,” Patrick said, rolling his eyes and exiting the vehicle. Patrick slammed the door as hard as he possibly could, and the SUV sped off. 

Patrick walked towards the office building and walked through the entrance. The walk had given him a little bit of time to formulate a plan. Whether or not it was good, or if he could pull it off, were entirely separate things. Out of the corner of his eye, the employee at the front desk gave him a double-take. Before they could ask any questions, Patrick called the elevator and stepped inside. 

After taking a deep breath, Patrick pushed the button for the tech support. As he was taking the elevator, he began to pace slightly. The more he analyzed his plan, the more stupid it sounded. It was something out of a cheaply made heist film. 

The “ping” from the elevator snapped Patrick out of his thoughts. He darted out and walked the hallways until he found the break room. There were a few people mingling about near the coffee maker, but they hardly took notice of him. 

Patrick used this to his advantage and snooped around. Immediately, he noticed the employees in the room were wearing entirely different badges inside their lanyards than the one he had been given. He cursed under his breath. 

Then, Patrick looked back at the coffee maker and hatched an idea. He approached the few employees, making sure to maneuver in front of them, and began to pour himself a cup. It was lukewarm but that didn’t matter to him. Before the others could adjust, Patrick whirled around and purposefully tripped and spilled coffee on one of the employees and then himself. 

“Oh! Oh gosh I’m so sorry!” Patrick exclaimed. 

“Hey man! This was my best work shirt!” the employee shouted. 

“I’m so sorry. I’m just… I’m having the worst day,” Patrick said. “Here let me at least clean your badge…” he suggested as he took off his. 

The employee seemed wary about the proposal, but he handed it over and Patrick took it to the sink next to them. He wrung out the coffee from both lanyards and ran some water on them. While they were in the sink, Patrick switched out their employee badges. They had no real identifiers besides their names and employee codes, so Patrick didn’t have to worry about pictures. 

Patrick handed the lanyard to the other employee with a tired smile. “Sorry again,” he said before quickly turning away and out of the room. 

After darting to the elevator, Patrick threw on the badge and slipped inside once it opened its doors. Patrick closed the doors and pressed the button for the financial department. 

This plan had way too many holes in it, but Patrick had come too far now to quit. Not with his life on the line. 

The elevator doors opened and Patrick stepped out. He looked around at the different cubicles until he found one unmanned. He sat down in the office chair and turned on the computer. As it loaded, he took a look around the space. It was depressingly filled with little to no decor. Save for a nihilistic poster and a few books. Patrick had almost worried if he had picked a long abandoned cubicle. Then a user login screen showed up. 

Patrick tried a few generic passwords, but came up empty each time. Increasingly frustrated, he looked away from the screen and at the poster. It was just a black background and white text that read “nothing matters”. 

Curiously, Patrick simply hit enter without putting in a single character. The computer accepted this and continued to boot up. Inwardly, he didn’t know whether to praise the employee or to write them up. 

Patrick then opened as many files as he could to find more information about the books. That’s when he found the most used program on the computer. He opened it up and found lines of code moving in real time. He was hardly a programmer, how was he supposed to figure this out? 

Just then, Patrick’s phone buzzed. He pulled it from his pocket, registering that it was a text from an unknown number; a serial number and nothing else. Patrick knew it was the kidnappers. 

Patrick placed his phone next to the keyboard and studied the application intensely. Before he did much else, he tried to find more information on the program itself. Nothing came up online, meaning that this program had to have been made specifically for this company. 

Unfortunately, Patrick didn’t have time to analyze the program deeply. He hit every menu he could click on and quickly looked over the drop down menus. Finally, he saw something he felt he could possibly use. He entered the information as carefully as possible and pressed the enter key. 

Only a moment later, Patrick saw his phone buzz and light up. On the screen was a thumbs up and nothing else. With that, he let out a sigh of relief. He closed the application and shut down the computer as quickly as possible. 

When he grabbed his phone and turned around, he was face to face with a bird looking at him curiously. “Uh… Any particular reason you’re on my computer, guy?” the bird asked. 

Patrick panicked, “I um— I.T.! I’m from… I.T.,” he stammered, flashing his lanyard. “The... head of finances wanted your password changed. Said something about it being too easy to guess,” he fibbed. 

The bird grew an annoyed look. “He would, wouldn’t he? Well if you’re done with the password change just write it down and go,” he said. 

Still feeling pressured, Patrick grabbed a pen and a sticky note and scribbled some nonsense down before darting out of the cubical. Even though his heart was pounding, Patrick tried to walk to the elevator as calmly as possible. He maneuvered inside, got to the ground floor and walked out of the building. 

Patrick started to walk briskly away from the building, before beginning to run down the street. He wanted to drain the adrenaline out of him somehow. As he crossed the street towards the third block, a familiar black SUV suddenly pulled in front of him. Patrick nearly ran into the car. “Holy shit!!” he exclaimed.

The back door opened again. “Get in,” The Jerk said. 

Patrick shook his head and backed away. “I did what you assholes wanted!” he shouted.

The Jerk pulled the gun on him again. “Yeah, we know. And now your former employer is after you. So get rid of your phone and get in!” they shouted back.

Patrick was in disbelief, “What?! How? I--”

“There’s no fucking time. You either get in, or you’re dead meat, dog!” The Asshole shouted from the driver's seat. 

Patrick still wasn’t sure if he was going to die by their hands either, but he decided to do as he was told. He threw his phone on the ground as hard as possible and hopped inside the SUV. 

The Asshole sped off before Patrick could even buckle himself in. Suddenly, the sound of screeching tires filled their ears. As soon as Patrick turned around, he saw another car scarily close to the back of theirs. 

At this point, Patrick’s heart was pounding in his throat. It only felt worse when he saw a man lean out the other car’s window with a gun. Patrick darted down in his seat as he heard the gunfire go off and the back window shattered. 

“Holy shit!!” Patrick shouted. 

The Jerk leaned out the window himself and returned fire. 

“Can you lose ‘em already?!” The Bastard shouted.

The Asshole grumbled underneath his breath and took a sharp turn. Patrick saw The Jerk stumble as though he were about to tumble out of the window. He had no idea what possessed him, but he reached out and grabbed a hold of the duck’s jacket to pull him inside. 

The Jerk flew back onto the backseat and looked surprisingly at Patrick. For a second, Patrick almost expected a thank you, until he saw the curve of his beak point downward. “You gonna throw off my aim? Or are you gonna help?” he asked.

Patrick looked shocked. “What?” he asked.

The duck produced another gun and handed it over. “You ever shot one before?” he asked.

“N- No!” Patrick shouted, cradling the gun in his hands.

“Eh, you’ll get the hang of it. Make sure the safety’s off,” The Jerk said before leaning out the window again.

Patrick swallowed thickly and rolled down the window. He was in this deep, so he couldn’t choke now. Patrick leaned out the window, noting how much closer the car looked. He saw another suit lean out the same side as him, only in the passenger seat, it was clear he had brandished his own weapon. Patrick switched off the safety on the side of his gun and took aim. 

Before he could think about it, the car sped over a bump and Patrick shot his gun in the air. After that, he darted back inside and shook his head. “I- I can’t--” He tried.

“No fuckin’ shit,” The Bastard growled.

Just then, the four heard gunfire and a large “pop” before the vehicle began to slow down. “Fuck! They hit a tire?!” The Bastard shouted.

The Jerk pulled himself back inside immediately.

The Asshole shouted, “Hang on!” and stomped on the breaks.

Patrick and the rest braced themselves as the car halted, causing the other car to slam into the back of theirs. There was a moment of silence just before the car started to become a bullet sponge. 

The Asshole struggled with the airbag before he took out his own weapon. He shot out the windshield himself before crawling out of the car. The Bastard followed suit, as well as The Jerk. 

As much as Patrick wanted to sit there, frozen in fear, he knew he would suffer for it. So he followed the other three and hugged the front of the car to dodge the oncoming bullets. He gripped his gun and peaked the side of the car, ready to shoot on sight.

But then... the bullets stopped. 

From the corner of his eye, Patrick saw a large white limo drive up to their car crash. When it parked, a door opened and water began to pour out. Then, a massive amount of water stood upright and formed the shape of a tall and strong looking dog. 

Patrick couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Had this all been a dream? Was he still dreaming? With no idea what else to do, Patrick pointed the gun at the figure.

The figure merely laughed as it moved closer, “Now now, Patrick... Doing that would be the equivalent of shooting fish in a barrel… minus the fish,” the creature said. Patrick noted how much it sounded like someone was trying to talk while gurgling water. 

“W- who are you…?” Patrick said.

“Why… I’m your new employer, of course! You came to answer the CEO ad, right?” the dog asked.

“Wait…” Patrick lowered the gun and looked around, starting to add things up. 

The thugs who had just been at each other’s throats seconds ago, were now idly chatting to one another and taking a look at the wreckage they had caused. It only occurred to him now that this had all been a set up.

“Thaaaat’s right! This was all a part of the assessment part of your interview. And I must say, you passed with flying colors!” The figure exclaimed with a wide gesture, causing sprinkles of water to fly away from his body.

“I… What?” Patrick was in disbelief. 

“Well, your aim could use some work, but you’ll get there. Or your money back, guaranteed!”

“Who- what the hell are you, exactly?!” Patrick asked again, feeling frustrated more by each passing second.

“My name is Bud Flud. But others know me as… The Liquidator.” 

The name sounded familiar to him, “Flud… The CEO of that water bottling company? Didn’t you die?” Patrick asked.

Liquidator chuckled, “Don’t believe everything you read in the paper. And yes, I used to own a water bottling company. But now, I want to start fresh!” he exclaimed.

Patrick didn’t know what to make of this situation. After a pause, Liquidator spoke again and gestured to his limo. “Come on, Pat. Let’s take a ride! I’ll explain everything you need to know. I promise I won’t bite,” he said.

With his will broken and his mind absolutely confused, Patrick dropped his gun and followed Liquidator into the back of his limo. The first thing he noted was the jacuzzi that was inside. He watched as Liquidator slid his way inside and leaned across the edge of the jacuzzi, facing Patrick. The door shut and the limo started to drive.

“Feeling peckish? Feeling parched? Just let me know what Liquidator can do for you,” Liquidator asked in a surprisingly gentle tone. 

“Uhh… No thanks,” Patrick answered. 

“Well then… I’m sure you have questions so act now while explanations last.”

After a pause, “Why the _ fuck _ would you kidnap me, beat me within an inch of my life, force me to commit a white-collar crime and then stage a fire-fight?” Patrick finally blurted, feeling red in the face with anger. 

“Huh. Thought for sure you’d ask me about my form first. They always go for that. But alright…” Liquidator said. Patrick tried his best to ignore the disappointed tone in his voice. “It’s like I said before, Pat. That was all apart of your job interview to become a CEO. I needed to see how you’d deal with the pressure,” Liquidator answered plainly. 

“In what universe would being a CEO involve all of that?!” Patrick shouted.

“Why, the same universe in which you assume my identity, of course.” 

Patrick laughed softly before he started to laugh even louder. “What the hell are you talking about?” he asked through his laughter.

“In case you haven’t noticed, I’m a criminal mastermind who’s also a large water monster,” Liquidator emphasized this by drawing his arms out of the water and back in, it looked as though his form had disappeared entirely. “I can’t exactly keep my desk job as CEO of my new company looking this way,” he said.

It still made no sense to Patrick, “Why not just hole yourself up in a remote office? Why not pay off people who see you like this? Or simply kill them?” he asked.

“I have a certain credibility to uphold within the companies I run. And I couldn’t possibly keep my identity hidden forever,” Liquidator explained, “Someone would talk, others would try to bribe and the police would follow a body count. Tsk. You’re starting to disappoint me, Patrick.” 

“Yeah well forgive me for not wanting to pledge my loyalty to a criminal _ mastermind _ who nearly got me arrested… and killed,” Patrick said, crossing his arms.

“Oh Patrick, you were never in any real danger!” The Liquidator laughed, “Well, except for when you routed the money from your old workplace to mine. That was definitely real and you absolutely would have been jailed if you had been caught. Still, you did a great job. Not many of our interviewees passed that part of the test.”

“Great. So I’m supposed to feel good knowing I committed a crime better than the rest of the idiots you tried to employ?” Patrick asked.

Liquidator paused, “Well… yes,” he said.

“Well I don’t,” Patrick said, feeling offended. 

“Patrick, listen... All I’m really asking is for you to sit pretty at the top of my new office building and do absolutely nothing. Nothing besides the occasional commercial or public appearance, that is. But I promise you’ll be paid handsomely for your work,” Liquidator offered. 

Patrick looked at Liquidator lamely. He still wasn’t entirely convinced that this was the golden opportunity that Liquidator was trying to spin it as. Still… in the back of his mind, Patrick began to feel that itch. 

It wasn’t enough. 

“How handsomely are we talking?” Patrick asked. 

“Simply name your price!” Liquidator said happily.

“So you can undersell me? No way. Make me an offer,” Patrick said. 

The Liquidator was caught off guard; this wasn’t how the hiring process was supposed to go. 

Patrick simply smiled to himself, now knowing just how much The Liquidator wanted him. No… how much he needed him. It all clicked when he recalled his kidnappers talking about how much he looked the part. So Patrick decided to exploit that. 

“You see… I’m starting to get the idea that you really want me to say yes. So, if you can name the right price, I’ll do whatever you want,” Patrick said. 

The Liquidator looked at Patrick with a scowl. “It looks to me like you think you have the upper hand here, Mr. Easton. When, in fact, I could drown you here in an instant and toss you into the Saint Canard bay… If I so desired.” 

“But we both know you won’t do it. Tell me, out of all the interviewees that you’ve had, how many that passed were dogs?” Patrick asked. 

“Why, dozens, of course,” 

“Liar. In fact, I have a feeling I’m the closest thing you're ever going to get to a doppelgänger. From what I can tell, I’ve got a similar, albeit slimmer, build. For those reasons, you want me, Flud. So make me an offer,” Patrick said, finally sitting back in his seat. 

The Liquidator continued to glare at Patrick, but he still answered him, “2.5 million,” He said, sitting up more.

Patrick rolled his eyes, “Annually? Chump change,” he said. 

“4 million.”

“Not nearly enough,” Patrick said. 

The Liquidator stood up in the jacuzzi in order to make himself look bigger and more imposing. He felt his water begin to boil, like hell if he was going to let this punk make a fool of him and his business. “6.5 and that’s final,” he said.

Patrick simply smiled, feeling very pleased with himself. “Deal,” he said. 

The Liquidator slumped back down into the jacuzzi. “You drive a hard bargain, Mr. Easton,” he said. 

“Yeah well,” Patrick started as he grabbed a bottle of champagne and popped the cork, “You did kidnap me. Seems only right that if I go through with being your sock puppet, I get a decent pay from it,” He said, deciding to forgo a glass and began drinking straight from the bottle. After taking a long sip he spoke, “Besides, I figure you can afford it. Just promise me I don’t have to do anymore white-collar crimes?” Patrick asked. 

“Not unless you want to! You have my word, Pat,” The Liquidator said. 

“Good. Now can I go home?” Patrick asked, starting to register just how fatigued he was by his earlier adventure. 

“Of course, of course! And I’ll be sure to send you home with some homework. You’ll need to be more familiar with my new company and myself, after all,” Liquidator said with a smile. 

“Of course…” Patrick said, rolling his eyes.

“You don’t have family, do you?” Liquidator suddenly asked. 

The question caught Patrick a little off guard. “Well, yeah, but I’m not exactly on speaking terms with anyone,” He admitted.

“Perfect! We’ll go ahead and fake your death, then,” Liquidator said, sounding a little too excited.

“What?” Patrick asked.

“Well, we were going to fake your death regardless, but it's always easier when there aren’t any immediate attachments. Tell me, you don’t have a girlfriend, do you?” Liquidator questioned.

“T- that’s… No. I wouldn’t…” Patrick stuttered, feeling a blush creep across his face. 

“Oh! Sorry. I mean, do you have a ‘significant other’?” Liquidator asked. 

Ignoring the annoyed tone in his boss’ voice, “I’m sorry, I’m still stuck on you faking my death?” Patrick admitted.

The Liquidator tilted his head slightly, “Well if you’re to assume my identity, you won’t be needing yours anymore. I thought that was obvious? Just think of it like living off the grid. Except with the millionaire lifestyle,” he said. 

“Great,” Patrick said. 

“You’ll need to move immediately, rip up any mail, cancel your subscriptions, cut up credit cards… All the nine yards,” Liquidator explained. 

“But…” Patrick began.

“Trust me, Patrick, you’ll be taken care of. This is just a part of the process,” Liquidator said in a rather soft tone.

“...Okay,” Patrick said with a nod. 

Just then, the limo came to a halt. As Patrick moved to open the door, it had already opened for him. He had no clue as to how Liquidator or his driver knew where he lived, but he was too tired to care. Patrick grabbed the champagne bottle and began to move out of the limo. 

“You have until Monday to get your affairs in order. Then you will hold an 8am meeting where you will meet our board members,” Liquidator called after him. 

Patrick waved at him, “Yeah, yeah. Monday. Got it,” He said tiredly. 

The driver who had opened his door presented Patrick with a folder of documents. Patrick took it assuming it was a file on Liquidator and his new company. Then he watched as the limo drove off before he turned to his apartment building. 

Patrick climbed up the stairs to his apartment, thankful knowing that it would be the last time. Finally, he would get the luxury he had always wanted. What he had always deserved. No more mediocrity. He’d finally have a chance at living the high life. 

After opening the door to his apartment, Patrick threw the folder onto his dining room table. He sat down in a chair and drank more of his champagne in silence. 

Patrick reminded himself that Saint Canard was a cesspool of violence and crime. Regardless of kind or creed, someone was a crook at some point. 

His time was now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This will be a place where I will post drabbles about Patrick and Liquidator. As such, ratings and warnings will change as they apply. I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it.


	2. Chapter 2

Life at Bud’s Essentials was everything that The Liquidator promised, and more. Patrick hardly had to lift a finger while he sat behind his large desk in the office at the top of his new tall office building. They were an essential oils company, profiting from the natural toxins off of plants, and their own diffusers in which to amplify the smells. 

The draw was the fact that some people believed the product they were selling had healing properties. Patrick didn’t believe it himself, but they kept the spirit alive by keeping their Bud’s Essentials patented diffuser inside the office and practically in every corner of the building. As well as some of their popular oils on stand-by. 

Patrick had almost wished he had thought of it himself sooner so he didn’t have to work for a master criminal. Still, despite the unconventional job interview, he found himself actually enjoying working for The Liquidator. And in his own way, The Liquidator enjoyed having Patrick around. It was a perfect gig. While The Liquidator ran rampant with his goons and caused his own mayhem during the night, Patrick would keep his company running during the day.

Just as he had promised, The Liquidator took care of Patrick. He had his own credit card, access to several subscription services, his own house, staff that took care of the house and even a vacation home. Patrick was now living the high life and he was loving it. 

It had only been a couple of months, but Patrick was already getting into the rhythm of things. The best part was that he only got involved with the company as much as he wanted to. All he had set aside for himself were interviews, board meetings, budgeting, shareholder meetings and the occasional commercial. 

The hardest part of his new life was assuming Bud Flud’s identity. It wasn’t that he made any effort to impersonate him, in fact he had been encouraged to just be himself by The Liquidator. The hard part was the fact that he had to adopt this new identity. Even simple things such as introducing himself over the phone would send him into a panic. Though, Patrick assumed it was only because he had been at this for a couple of months. 

After he had clocked out, Patrick gave a small sigh before he grabbed his jacket and started for the double doors of his office. 

“Has the daily grind got you down? In need of some relaxation?” A familiar voice rang.

Patrick halted as The Liquidator formed directly in front of him. “How about a nice meeting with The Liquidator?” His boss asked.

“A nice meeting? With you? Fat chance. Also, I’ve gotta say, it always creeps me out when you talk in third-person,” Patrick complained. 

“You’re no fun,” Liquidator simply said, frowning. 

“Hey, we work together, you don’t get to see my fun side. Besides, you kidnapped me, remember?” Patrick asked.

“How could I possibly forget? You keep reminding me,” Liquidator said.

“Now can you tell me what you want? So I can go home as quickly as possible?” Patrick said. 

“All I want is to just take a look at your finances,” The Liquidator said as he moved towards the desk. 

Patrick rolled his eyes and followed. “Really? Didn’t we just do this last month?” He asked, watching Liquidator pause at the aquarium behind his desk.

The Liquidator then turned and pulled out Patrick’s chair for him to sit in it. “Why, yes! And I’ll be on it again next month, and the month after that, and the month after that..,” He told him. 

“This is because you don’t trust me, isn’t it?” Patrick asked while he brought up his bank’s website. 

“Why of course it is! Also, I like to keep records of exactly where my money goes, you know,” The Liquidator answered. 

“You know you could have told me you wanted this sooner, I’d be happy to give you a full report every month. If you had only asked,” Patrick said. 

The Liquidator narrowed his look, searching for the sarcasm in Patrick’s voice. “Wait, really?” he asked. 

“Yeah. It’s not like you have me overworked, exactly. I’ve got time,” Patrick told him. 

“Who’s to say you wouldn’t fudge the records?” Liquidator accused. 

“You have all my passwords. You have ownership over my credit cards. You can seize them anytime you want. Have you really not thought this far ahead?” Patrick asked. 

“...Honestly, I didn’t think you’d stick around this long,” Liquidator said in a soft voice. 

Patrick wasn’t sure what to make of that phrase. For some reason he felt chills run up his back, causing his fur to stand on end. Surely the criminal meant in terms of life expectancy, definitely not in terms of Patrick rejecting his initial offer and in turn rejecting him. 

Patrick cleared his throat and began to print out his bank records. “There we go! Printing out this month’s expenses…” 

“When they’re done, put them on the table side by side. I’d like to read them before you file them,” Liquidator told him. 

“Sure thing,” Patrick said. For awhile, nothing else was heard besides the gentle whir coming from the printer. “So… You uh… rob anything recently?” Patrick asked. The Liquidator looked at Patrick lamely. Patrick shrugged in defense, “Well I don’t know what you do!” he said. 

“And you won’t have to. You just keep on being my little sock puppet and don’t worry your pretty little head about what I get up to,” The Liquidator told him.

Patrick felt a blush race across his cheeks, but tried to hide it away by getting up from his chair and moving to collect the printed pages. “And what if I get questions?” he asked. 

“Ignorance is bliss, Patrick. The less you know about my criminal activity, the better. By you having your own agency, you’ll have better crafted alibis than whatever my team of lawyers could ever come up with in a day,” The Liquidator explained. 

Once he had them gathered, Patrick laid the papers out on the desk like his boss had asked. The Liquidator looked over them carefully. Out of the corner of Patrick’s eye, he saw a shadow rapidly approaching the window from behind Liquidator. Suddenly, a huge ‘crash’ echoed through the room. Patrick shielded himself as best he could from the water and the glass that dispersed through the room. His first thought was of the shattered aquarium that had been behind his desk.

“I… am the terror that flaps in the night…” A dramatic voice exclaimed as purple smoke began to crawl from the desk to the office floor. 

Patrick looked up, finding no trace of Liquidator, but instead tried to focus on the wreckage in front of him. The cloud of smoke began to clear and a figure of a duck in a cape stood in front of him. 

“I am the water company that turns off your supply in the middle of your shower. I am… Darkwing Duck!” The masked duck shouted. 

“...You mind getting off of my desk?” Patrick asked. 

“No way, Bud Flud. Not until you start explaining yourself!” Darkwing shouted, then pulled Patrick closer by his necktie. “I saw you die.” 

Patrick felt uneasy. Recalling Liquidator’s file, Patrick knew Bud had been tossed into a vat of toxic water by Saint Canard’s hometown hero. They both had expected him to come snooping around eventually, but they never got around to discussing exactly how to deal with it. 

“I got better?” Patrick asked with a weak smile and a shrug. 

A flash of confusion showed across Darkwing’s face. Before he could comment, however, Patrick saw Liquidator slam the office’s printer onto the hero’s head. Darkwing tumbled off the desk and near Patrick’s feet. 

The Liquidator stared Patrick down with a harsh glare. “I got better? Really?” he asked. 

“He thinks you fucking died! How else was I supposed to respond that?” Patrick asked. 

“Tell him nano machines rebuilt me, I don’t know!! Anything’s better than what you just told him,” The Liquidator huffed. 

Patrick ran a hand through his hair, “You know, it figures that the one plot hole we haven’t fixed just shows up out of nowhere to put a whole cog in the machine,” he said, feeling exasperated and more nervous by the minute. 

“So we kill him,” The Liquidator said. 

“Kill Darkwing Duck?! Are you fucking crazy? What if his sidekick shows up?” Patrick shouted. 

“So we kill him too!”

“No!”

“Then what do you purpose we do? Act now, while this superhero is unconscious!” The Liquidator demanded.

“Ok, alright! Just help me tie him up and let me do the talking,” Patrick said, pulling his office chair upright and sweeping glass off of the seat. 

“Because you were handling the talking so well,” The Liquidator quipped. 

Patrick’s cheeks flared in embarrassment, “I’ve got a better idea of what to say. Just… stay out of sight and trust me for once,” He hissed. 

Liquidator rolled his eyes but still proceeded to help pick Darkwing off of the floor and into the chair. Patrick grabbed a roll of office tape and began to circle the duck. After a minute or so, he saw Liquidator lose his form and drop to the floor with the water left behind by the broken aquarium. 

After a minute or so, Darkwing came back to consciousness. He struggled against his bonds. “What the--” he shouted.

“Look, Mr. Darkwing, I know I’ve done some dubious things in the past…” Patrick started.

“You poisoned your competitors water supply, and got hundreds if not thousands sick,” Darkwing hissed. 

“But I’m just trying to start fresh here. I’ve turned over a new leaf,” Patrick said. 

“You can get back to that after you’ve spent time in the slammer,” Darkwing told him, shifting to struggle against the tape holding him in place. 

Patrick huffed and crossed his arms. “Oh please. The worst that will happen is I spend a single night in jail. If even that. I’ve already paid off the right people to ‘forget’ my little blunder. You realize I’m a millionaire, right?”

“Whether it’s done by a rich man, or a poor man, a crime is a crime,” Darkwing told him. 

Patrick slammed his fist onto the desk next to Darkwing to grab his attention. He looked fearful for the first time. “Don’t you get it? You’d be wasting my time, the city’s time and yours by taking me down to the police station,” he said. “So how about you forget about this prison sentence you want me to serve so badly and I…” Then, Patrick twirled the chair around so Darkwing could get a closer look at the damage he had caused, “Will forget all about this little breaking and entering?” Patrick asked. 

“Wha—“ 

“Or would you rather have me call the police right now?” Patrick asked leaning on the back of the chair, “You know, for breaking my sixteen hundred dollar window, and my twelve hundred dollar aquarium.”

“But I—“ 

“What?” Patrick shouted, twisting the chair back towards him so he could glare into Darkwing’s eyes, “You think you’re free of consequences just because you play the hero?” He asked in a mocking tone. 

“Well no, but I—“ 

“Then how about it, Mr. Darkwing Duck? Are you going to take my offer? Or will I be seeing you in court?” Patrick asked, feeling and looking as smug as ever. 

Darkwing glared at Patrick and sighed, “Fine,” he said. 

“I’m so glad we could reach an agreement,” Patrick said, beginning to pull off the tape from Darkwing’s body. 

Patrick did so in one full motion, causing the chair to whirl around. This caused Darkwing to stumble out of the seat in a bit of a daze.

Once he recovered, Darkwing pointed at Patrick. “I’ll be watching you, Bud,” He warned. 

“That’s Mr. Flud, to you,” Patrick told him after Darkwing turned around towards the broken window. 

Darkwing didn’t say another word as he hopped out the window and shot off his plunger gun to reel him back to the roof. Patrick watched him slowly maneuver out of sight. Shortly afterward, the sound of a roaring jet engine filled his ears and he saw Darkwing’s abhorrent vehicle fly off into the night. 

Then, Patrick heard laughter as he watched The Liquidator form beside him. The mood Liquidator put out was contagious, as Patrick found himself smiling. 

“I can’t believe it! You threw Darkwing Duck off the scent of my secret identity,” Liquidator said. 

“For now, at least,” Patrick told him. 

In that moment, The Liquidator felt reassured by Patrick’s actions. It was clearer to him more than ever that Patrick was in this for the long haul. And he was starting to think he had found the perfect person for the job. Afterwards, the two went their separate ways. 

Patrick had gone home for the day. The house was nice and peaceful enough. It was nestled in a wealthy gated community. It was spacious but humble for his tastes. Patrick enjoyed the hardwood flooring with white and blue accents throughout. He even found himself fascinated with the aquarium that acted as a divide between the dining room and the living room. It was the largest gathering of fish and plant life he had seen that wasn’t in an official city-owned aquarium. 

After attending to the fish, Patrick spent his time preparing dinner with the ingredients that had been picked out beforehand by his staff who had long since gone home. Once he ate and watched some Television, Patrick decided to read and go to sleep.

Nothing had prepared Patrick for what woke him up that very night. He was awakened to the sound of clattering coming from his living room. Patrick shot up from his bed and grabbed his lamp from the nightstand, jerking it until he unplugged it from the wall. 

Patrick stayed as close to the wall as possible when he pushed open his bedroom door. He leaned outside and down the hall. It was still dark, but he continued to look around. When he found nothing, he tip-toed as best as he could where he had believed to have heard the noises. 

Immediately, Patrick let out a yelp when he felt something cold hit the pads of his feet. Water? 

Patrick turned on the lights where he found a rather small form of The Liquidator attempting to climb into his aquarium. “Wait! What are you--?” He asked, dropping the lamp he had been holding. 

Liquidator merely looked at Patrick as he flowed inside the aquarium water seamlessly. Then, in a form that was more akin to his normal size, he popped out of the top. Liquidator leaned on the side of the aquarium and beckoned Patrick to come closer. 

“I need a favor,” He said in a weak voice. 

Patrick moved closer, ever curious about The Liquidator’s form, “Do you… feel them?” He asked, pointing at the fish swimming around.

Liquidator looked down at the aquarium full of fish and fauna, “The fish? Of course,” He simply said, “Now, hold out your hand.” 

Patrick did so and watched as The Liquidator presented his own just above it. Then, Patrick saw a large seed flow down from Liquidator’s shoulder to his pointer finger and finally drop into his open palm.

“...What is this?” Patrick asked, looking over the seed that was almost as big as his thumb.

“I’m going to need you to plant it. As soon as possible,” The Liquidator demanded. 

Patrick scrambled, “Oh! Okay um… I guess I can uh… get a bowl--” He started as he fetched something from the kitchen. When he thought of soil he immediately darted outside. There, instead of filling the bowl with his yard’s dirt, he spotted a few small pots with soil already inside. 

When Patrick returned, he looked quizzically at Liquidator. “Interesting that I found a whole row of these… with nothing in them,” he said.

“Please just plant it,” Liquidator demanded, his voice sounding tired and annoyed. 

Patrick did as he asked and planted the bulbous seed, but refused to let up on the subject. “Y’know now I’m starting to see why you want aquariums all over the place, too. My home, my vacation home, the office… These are all the places you can hideout in, huh?” He asked, bitterly. 

The Liquidator just rolled his eyes, “Yes, Patrick. You found me out, I built everything you know as a place of refuge for myself and my cohorts. Are you happy? Now bring him to me!” He roared.

Patrick almost hesitated entirely when he heard the ferociousness in his voice. “H… him?” He asked as he shakingly presented the potted seed.

The Liquidator swiped the pot from Patrick and began to pour water from his hand into the soil. Soon, the water began to leak from the bottom and the top. Soil and water was spilling everywhere on the hardwood flooring. 

“Whoa! Hang on! Isn’t that a little much?” Patrick asked.

“Not for him,” Liquidator simply told him.

Patrick watched as something began to poke from the soil and Liquidator’s water. It was unlike any plant he had seen before; bright and purple with a hint of green. He wasn’t a plant expert, but Patrick couldn’t help but feel there was something unnatural that was occurring in front of him. 

From the sapling something odd began to take shape. At first, Patrick assumed it was a purple flower. Then the green stem took on a shape almost akin to a match. From it, branches extended outward and what Patrick could only categorize as a blindingly yellow beak formed. Then, large crazed-looking eyes opened up and darted all around the room. 

“What… is that?” Patrick asked.

“This… is our lead scientist and botanist at Bud’s Essentials. Patrick, meet Dr. Reginald Bushroot,” The Liquidator said as he stopped the water flow from his hand. 

“Our… Botanist? This is… Is that what we farm from to make our oils?” Patrick asked, glancing at Liquidator.

“Not what, who. He’s been in charge of growing and harvesting the plants we farm from. And what’s with that look? Did you honestly think I was the only mutant in Saint Canard?” The Liquidator asked.

“Well I--” Patrick began to defend himself.

“Bud!” A small voice interrupted, Patrick looked and watched as the plant-duck began to talk to Liquidator, “What the heck are we doing here?” he asked.

“I was weak and so were you. Patrick was nearby so I broke us in,” The Liquidator explained, bringing the potted plant closer to his muzzle. 

“Oh. Well, thanks for savin’ me, Bud,” Bushroot said before reaching to hug the expanse of Liquidator’s nose. Considering the size he was at current, it was the entirety of his wingspan. 

Patrick watched curiously as he saw The Liquidator’s cheeks bubbled up as though his head was reaching a boil. “There’s always satisfaction with The Liquidator, or your money back guaranteed,” He said softly. 

“It’s too bad we couldn’t hit that lab, though. We could’ve really used those chemicals in there,” Bushroot said, letting go of Liquidator. 

“We’ll find another way. I promise, Regg-- Bushroot,” Liquidator hesitated, looking at Patrick as though he had just remembered he was in the same room.

Patrick still wasn’t sure exactly what he was seeing. “So are you both just going to crash here or…?” Patrick asked.

“Seeing as it’s technically my property, all signs point to yes,” The Liquidator said. 

“You sure that annoying Darkwing Duck doesn’t know about this place?” Bushroot asked, his leafy feathers fluffing in annoyance. 

“I promise that masked creep won’t lay another finger on you here,” Liquidator said in a determined voice. 

“I was more worried about that chainsaw he had, if I’m being honest...” Bushroot told him. 

Patrick was just about to make a quip about how his boss had wasted no time trying to commit a caper while he had known Darkwing was on patrol. But instead, he watched as Liquidator extended his hand towards the dining table and placed his leafy friend onto it. The water in the aquarium fluctuated down slightly at the action, but returned to normal once he retracted his arm. 

Then, with tired eyes, The Liquidator sank down entirely into the aquarium. Patrick couldn’t see the mutant save for his nose, mouth and eyes. While he didn’t understand the logic as to why The Liquidator had to sleep inside his aquarium, he chose not to argue or ask. He simply pulled up his step ladder, reattached the top of the aquarium with a slight tilt to it and climbed back down.

As Patrick began to turn back towards the hallway, he was stopped by a harsh ‘PSST!’. He whirled around and saw Bushroot pointing towards the kitchen window. “Could you uh… Draw the drapes open? I would do it myself but I’m not fully grown just yet,” he admitted. 

Patrick did as he was asked but before he walked away, he couldn’t help himself and sat down at the table. Patrick saw this as a golden opportunity to learn more about the scientist and his employer. Before saying a word, however, he took a long hard look at Bushroot. This caused the small plant creature to curl in on himself slightly.

“Uuuh… thanks?” Bushroot said, not sure why Patrick was looking at him so intensely.

“Did Darkwing turn you into… this, too?” Patrick asked.

“Oh no, not at all. I did this all myself. I, uh, experimented on myself, that is,” Bushroot admitted. 

“And every time you get cut down, you deposit a seed and you just grow back?” Patrick asked.

“Trust me, it’s every amount of weird for me as it is to you,” Bushroot told him.

“Weird? Yes. But it’s also amazing,” Patrick said. 

Bushroot stood up taller, looking happily at Patrick. “Y- you think so?” he asked. 

“Of course. What else can you do?” Patrick asked.

Three bright green leaves immediately sprouted from behind Bushroot and began to shake in excitement. No one had ever taken such a deep interest in Bushroot or his abilities before. “Well I can uh… I can make my arms super long, like vines. I can also talk to plants and have them do whatever I want,” Bushroot said.

Patrick looked absolutely shocked. “You might wanna lead with that next time. I mean… Holy shit. You can get any plant to do anything?” he asked.

“Yep! It comes in handy, even when I’m not fighting anybody. I have plants that guard my greenhouse. And a venus flytrap for a pet!” Bushroot chirped. 

Patrick looked at the aquarium, watching Liquidator’s features gently float inside. “And how’d you get involved with The Liquidator? Did he kidnap you too?” he asked. 

“Kidnap me? No! I uh… I guess you could say I saved him.” 

“What? How? Why?” Patrick asked, completely taken aback by this new piece of information. 

Bushroot held his hands and began to fidget with them, he glanced around the room as though he wasn’t sure if anyone else was listening in. From Bushroot’s body language, Patrick assumed Liquidator didn’t like him telling this story. Probably because it made the water mutant look vulnerable somehow. 

“Well, it was on the same night that Liquidator had been thrown in that vat of toxic water by Darkwing…” Bushroot began. 

* * *

Bushroot remembered that night vividly. While he was busy tending his greenhouse, it came time to water his brethren. Before he turned on the sprinklers overhead, he liked to use the garden hose to pay closer attention to his potted plants. 

“Alright my beautiful friends, it’s drinking time,” Bushroot told them, watching them vibrate with anticipation. 

When he went to turn it on, however, something strange happened. The water that poured from the hose was nothing like Bushroot had ever seen. It was yellow and shimmering with chemicals. He jerked it away from his plants and turned it off as quickly as possible. 

Bushroot spotted some of the water that was caught in a saucer underneath one of his potted plants. He moved the pot and picked up the saucer to examine it. “What is this?” Bushroot asked no one. 

Oddly enough, the water seemed to bubble. The scientific nature burst through Bushroot as he made the decision to fill up the saucer with more of the supposed “water” and carry it to his makeshift lab. 

Immediately, Bushroot began to experiment. As he observed he began to find that this water was highly contaminated. “Well it’s a good thing I didn’t get this on any of my plants...” Bushroot commented as he examined his results. 

Extremely curious to see what he might find, Bushroot placed a small sample of the water under his microscope. Just when he was about to give up on finding anything out of the ordinary, he found DNA. The genetic makeup was unlike anything he had ever seen before. 

“These aren’t just traces of DNA like you’d find in the tap. This is bonafide DNA. And it’s riddled with toxins,” Bushroot told himself. 

Bushroot began to build himself a water purification system. He didn’t want to drain out the DNA, however, so he started off simple with grinding up some charcoal and stuffing cotton in the bottom of a funnel that was leading out into a flask. Then he carefully poured some of the toxic water into it where it hit the charcoal first.

The water had gone from a yellow to a murky green. In the flask, Bushroot saw more bubbles and something akin to eyes. He shook his head, believing he was simply seeing things. Then he decided to clear his funnel and try it again. 

This time, much to Bushroot’s surprise, the water in his flask turned a vibrant blue. It was the kind of shimmering blue he had only ever seen in pictures of beautiful island landscapes. More bubbles cropped up in the small flask, so he peered closer. What he thought were specks floating in the water, suddenly began to rise to the top. Then water shaped like small fingers grabbed the edge of the flask, which caused Bushroot to immediately drop the flask onto the desk. 

The water that had spilled from the flask didn’t move for a full minute. Bushroot wondered if he had inadvertently killed whatever creature was in his science equipment. Just then, however, the water began to contract closer. And just like that, a small figure of a dog formed in front of Bushroot. 

Still amazed at what he was seeing Bushroot blurted out, “Lemme guess… mutant?” he asked. 

The dog looked from his own hands towards Bushroot, “More,” He demanded in a small voice. 

Bushroot nodded, “Okay… formalities later, water now, got it,” he said. 

Immediately, Bushroot went to work on a slightly larger and stronger water purification system. He stuffed a larger funnel with cotton before pouring more charcoal inside and topping it with stones he found in the greenhouse. After that he placed a larger-sized beaker at the open end of the funnel. From there, he led the hose to it and turned the water on until the funnel was full. 

Bushroot and his new friend watched as the more purified water slowly gathered into the beaker. “My name is Dr. Reginald Bushroot, by the way,” he chirped. 

The dog didn’t pay him any mind as he reached for the edge of the beaker and climbed inside. Just like that, the dog grew to about the same size as the beaker. He hopped back out and smiled dangerously at Bushroot. “Now introducing, The Liquidator,” he said. 

“I find it hard to believe that was the name your mother gave you…” Bushroot said, turning off the hose once the funnel was at capacity. 

The smile disappeared, Liquidator stuck his hand inside the beaker and absorbed the water as it trailed down. “I don’t have to tell you my real name…” he snapped. 

“O- Okay then, don’t. But do you mind me asking how’d you end up in my garden hose?” Bushroot asked, raising the hose in question. 

“I pulled myself from a vat of toxic water, and I went down a drain. I thought I was a goner,” Liquidator told him as he flowed off of the scientist’s table. He was now tall enough to stand beside it with his hand still in the beaker. 

“You could’ve been, for sure. If I hadn’t purified you, I’m not sure you would have re-materialized. I mean, those toxin levels were off the charts when I measured them,” Bushroot explained. 

“I know. I put them in the water in the first place. Then some maniac in a mask and cape threw me into them,” Liquidator said, feeling the water flow through him as it worked to expand his mass. 

Bushroot looked over The Liquidator, seeing him change size and shape in front of his eyes. The dog was beginning to tower over him slightly. Bushroot found it slightly intimidating. “You’re either a chemistry genius or you’re extremely lucky,” he said.

“...Lucky, huh?” The Liquidator asked in a bitter voice, looking at his hands when he took it out of the beaker. 

Bushroot recognized that look and tone. This was someone who clearly was depressed and angered by their circumstances. Bushroot didn’t want them to spiral any further into it. He frowned at The Liquidator, “Hey now, you’re alive, aren't you? You’ll find your way again,” Bushroot told him. 

The look on Liquidator’s face was something Bushroot would never forget. It was a soft spoken surprise, like Reginald had said a string of words he had never heard before. His long ears were perked as he looked at his savior up and down. “Yeah... I guess you’re right,” he said.

Bushroot felt his heart swell and his beak sting with a blush. Desperate to change the subject, “L- let me show you around...” Bushroot said softly. 

* * *

At present, Patrick couldn’t believe what he had just heard. “Just like that, you happened to save the nastiest, meanest, eco-terrorist in all of Saint Canard,” he said.

“Eco-terrorist?” Bushroot asked with a laugh, “He only poisoned a few water companies and it just happened to get into the sewer system… Bud didn’t really mean it,” he said, sounding very confident. 

“Uhuh...” Patrick nodded, starting to think Liquidator had told Bushroot this false narrative. Not wanting to overwrite it or waste his time arguing over it, he changed the subject. “So after that, then what? How’d he approach you with Bud’s Essentials?” 

“Well he came to me right after he got access to his business and his fortune… Then he just offered me the job! I mean, how could I possibly turn it down? Do you know how hard it is to get a job in Saint Canard as a mutant?” Bushroot asked.

“And all the crime?” Patrick asked, “You’ll have to excuse me, but you don’t really strike me as the criminal type…”

Patrick distinctly noted the blush that formed across Bushroot’s yellow bill as he mentioned this. “W- well… Since Bud and I met, we’ve supported each other. Also, we work really well together. And I mean that in the most literal sense possible. With both of our powers combined… there’s really no limit to what we can do,” He explained in a dreamy tone.

“Water powers, earth powers and an appetite for crime. Truly a match made in heaven,” Patrick said. After that, he stood up and began to walk away. “Well that was all… very enlightening, thank you. If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to bed,” he said.

“Uh- Uh! Patrick…” Bushroot called before Patrick walked away entirely. The dog turned to him with a curious expression. “Thanks.” 

“For pulling back the curtains?” Patrick asked. 

“No, no. Well, yes but also for talking to me…” Bushroot said. 

“Uh… no problem. Anytime,” Patrick said before slowly turning away. 

Bushroot felt his heart leap at the sound of that. Just like that, he had made a new friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm glad that folks are enjoying Patrick. This story/drabble piece is something I've found myself super invested in. Mainly because I've found myself wanting to explore Liquidator's character beyond the one-liners. Like: How does he feel about being a mutant? How would he carry on being a CEO of a major company? What are his relationships with the other villains? Etc. I hope I can explore more of these avenues with you all as this continues! 
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS: Homophobia, f slur and implications of parental abuse.
> 
> This chapter might be a little familiar to some but I encourage you to continue reading because it's a little longer and I definitely changed a few things. I hope you enjoy!

After a particularly hard day’s work, Patrick was glad to see the sight of his home as he pulled into the driveway. He locked the car as soon as he was out and turned to his door. Strangely and alarmingly, it was unlocked. 

It had been a week or so since Liquidator and his bush friend had invaded his home. Still, Patrick told himself not to be surprised if he found at least one of them inside. 

Silently, Patrick crept through the threshold and looked around. Sure enough, there was water and soil all over his hardwood floor. Patrick’s ears darted back in annoyance. “Great,” he mumbled to himself and shut the door behind him. 

Apparently his voice was enough to cause a stir from his vibrant white couch. Both The Liquidator and Bushroot jolted upwards and turned their attention towards Patrick. Bushroot looked ten times more disheveled and embarrassed than the calm and cocky Liquidator ever did. At this point, Patrick was well aware that the two mutants were in a deep romantic relationship. Despite Liquidator’s horrible attempts to hide it.

“Oh? Back so soon?” Liquidator asked with a shit-eating grin smeared across his face. 

Suddenly the TV turned on with Bushroot holding the remote. “W- we were just watching some television…” 

Patrick didn’t believe that for a second, still, he refused to ask any intimate questions. “What are you two doing here?” he asked. 

“Your house is a convenient rondevu point. So we decided that if ever we got split during a crime, we meet here,” Liquidator answered.

“I’m sorry, but don’t you realize how incriminating this is to me? To us? I mean, what if you were followed?” Patrick asked in a high-pitched tone. 

“Relax, Pat. No one followed us. We’ve been at this for a good while now, so we know a thing or two about lying low,” Liquidator told him.

“More like lying down and around. Can you get off of my couch, by the way? It’s going to take ages to dry,” Patrick sighed. 

Liquidator stood from his seat only to move and hover over Patrick. “Come on, Pat, I promise it won’t be forever,” he lied. 

“If you guys like coming to this house so much, I might just buy another. One that’s larger and far more expensive,” Patrick warned with a teasing smile on his lips.

“Fine, fine, you’ve made your point. We won’t come over here anymore, I promise,” Liquidator said with a scowl. 

“Good,” Patrick said, his tail wagging as he mentally marked down this victory. “Now if you’ll both excuse me, I have to take my hairdryer to my couch so my company has someplace to sit,” he said. 

“Company, huh? Gotta say, Pat, I never pinned you for a socialite,” Liquidator called after him. 

“Oh leave him alone, Buddy, we should just go and get out of his hair,” Bushroot told Liquidator while he removed himself from the couch and turned off the TV. 

Patrick returned to the living room with a black hairdryer in hand. “It’s business related, if you really want to know. Y’know, our business,” he told them. 

“Well then I hope you make good decisions for us both,” Liquidator said. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Patrick waved him off just as the two mutants finally left his abode. 

It felt like ages while Patrick tried his best to clean the house and dry the couch, but really it only took an hour or so before the doorbell rang. Immediately, he yanked the hairdryer from the wall and brushed it under the couch. Then he stood and walked towards the door. 

Behind it was a small mild-mannered, young looking duck dressed up in a suit and tie. “Ned Harrison, head of Marketing at your service, Mr. Flud,” the duck introduced as he reached out his hand.

Patrick took it, “Please, call me Bud,” he reassured him as he shook his hand.

When Patrick stepped aside, Ned walked in and took a look around, “I’m not going to lie to you, this is a lot more humble than I was expecting,” Ned admitted. 

“You should see my vacation home,” Patrick chuckled as he shut the door and reached out to take Ned’s coat.

“Is that an offer, Bud?” Ned asked with a small smile curved on his beak. He caught Patrick’s gaze snap from his beak to his eyes as he handed over his jacket. 

“Perhaps,” Patrick said and turned to gently discard the article of clothing on a nearby coat rack. Then, eager to move things along, Patrick spoke again, “but first, we should discuss business,” he said.

Patrick moved to grab a remote for his home entertainment system and turned on some light classical music to ring throughout the house. With just the first few notes, Ned recognized it, “Chopin? Lovely choice,” he complimented. 

“Always a favorite of mine,” Patrick told him.

Patrick invited Ned into the kitchen where he poured some wine. It was there that they began to discuss their work. Ned divulged some of his history while Patrick began to cook for the two of them. 

Though Ned offered to help with the meal, Patrick politely declined. “You’re my guest,” Patrick told him, “Besides, I’m a mean cook, if I do say so myself,” he said.

So Ned stood by in the kitchen as they drank wine together and talked about the company. He was learning quickly that his boss was intelligent, but didn’t have a full grasp on the intricacies of marketing his product. 

They began to strategize about things while they talked over dinner. Patrick saw Ned’s eyes light up as he took his first bite and smiled a little to himself. 

For Patrick, it felt nice to connect to someone who wasn’t a mutant or a criminal. Ever since he restarted his life, he hadn’t really tried to reach out to anyone to make a connection. It certainly helped that Patrick saw Ned as surprisingly cute. 

Patrick’s love life had been virtually nonexistent as his former identity. Not that he felt any romantic attraction to begin with. All of his past relationships had been of a sexual nature. Patrick liked it that way. While he wasn't entirely repulsed by romance, things of that nature never came easily for him. It all felt performative and awkward whenever he tried to be romantic.

In the past, Patrick didn’t have much of a committed career either, which wasn’t very appealing. Now that he was a rich CEO, he assumed it would open doors. He could have his way with whomever he pleased. 

And tonight, it looked like duck was on the menu.

Ned didn’t need much convincing. His boss was alarmingly attractive and he had been heavily flirting with him all night. After enough wine and some deep conversation, Ned was more than willing.

A few days later, Patrick was in his office laminating the final pages of his financial report of the month. Liquidator stood nearby as he watched, eerily silent.

And then, “So what’s this I hear about you and Ned from Marketing?” The Liquidator, his boss, asked.

Patrick felt his cheeks burn as he handed off his laminated financial report to Liquidator. He saw the sly smile on his boss’ face and felt a deep panic rise up inside. 

In that moment, Patrick saw his misdeeds flash before his eyes. Ned from marketing disheveled, pressed hard against the bathroom stall door. His heart pounded inside his throat as he recalled Ned inside his office, making a mess of the newly installed sixteen hundred dollar window with their shallow breaths. 

“Oh it’s nothing…” Patrick replied immediately. “Ned and I have been… working on some new strategies in terms of advertising.” 

Liquidator didn’t look convinced. In fact, his smile only grew more sinister, “You realize I don’t actually talk to any employees in this building besides you, right? But I do watch the cameras from time to time.”

Patrick’s face burned even brighter at the realization. “I— I’m sorry— I… It won’t happen again, sir,” he said. 

Liquidator laughed at that, “Patrick, I’m a hardened criminal. I don’t actually care about your sexual conduct within the company!” he exclaimed. 

Immediately, Patrick lost his calm demeanor, “Then why the hell would you even bring it up?” he shouted. 

“To get a rise out of you, why else?” Liquidator said, “Tell me, was he the one who visited you at home a couple days ago when you rushed Bushroot and I out the door? I bet you couldn’t wait to get to business,” the devilish grin was almost too much for Patrick to even look at.

“I hate you,” Patrick said with a growl. 

“Oh that’s not true…” Liquidator said, grabbing Patrick by the jaw. “After all, look at everything I’ve given you…” 

Patrick glared and jerked his head away from Liquidator’s grasp. “Yeah, because you gave it all out of the kindness of your heart,” He said sarcastically, wiping at his chin to dry his fur. 

“You’re right, it isn’t. But me keeping you alive, is. So try to give me some respect,” Liquidator demanded. 

“Yeah I’ll be sure to do that, would you like that before or after you mock my sex life?” Patrick asked. 

“Wasn’t my fault you two were so messy about it. I’m sure half the building is talking about it right now.” 

“Well how is you invading my privacy and viewing my non consensual sex tapes my fault?! I didn’t even know they existed a minute ago.” 

Just then, there was a small knock on the double doors. Patrick and Liquidator froze amidst their heated discussion. Before Patrick could react, Liquidator fell to the carpet floor in his purely liquefied form. 

A bit of Liquidator left Patrick’s shoe feeling soaked and cold. “God damn it!” he shouted as he shook his shoe a little, “I- I mean, give me a minute!”

Quickly, Patrick grabbed an empty glass that had been sitting on his desk and faced the door. “Come on in!” he chimed. 

Slowly the door opened and revealed a timid duck. It was none other than Ned from marketing. “Is everything okay?” he asked, pointing at the wetness on the floor. 

“Oh yeah. You just scared me, is all! I spilled some of my water. It’s no big deal.” Patrick said, placing the empty cup onto his desk. He turned towards Ned and leaned against it, trying to act as casual as possible. “So what can I help you with, Ned?” 

“Well, nothing really. I just… wanted to say goodbye face-to-face. If that’s alright? I’m sure you’re busy…” Ned said in a sad tone. 

Patrick was completely confused, “Wait, goodbye…?” he asked.

Ned raised his hands, “No it’s alright. There’s no need for niceties. I get it, it wasn’t very professional of us to… do the things we did, Mr. Flud. Your email was very clear about that,” he said. 

“But I didn’t—“ Patrick began until he felt a cold and wet hand grip around his right ankle. He glanced at the floor and back at Ned. 

“I understand that you want to maintain a businesslike atmosphere. So firing me was a very logical thing to do. I just… I wanted to know… was this a fling?” Ned asked, curling in on himself as though he were bracing for impact. 

“A fling? I hardly know the meaning of the word. I uh… wanted to fire you so we could… strengthen our chances!” Patrick said, trying to subtly shake free the death grip that The Liquidator had on his ankle. 

“Oh really?” Ned asked, not sounding convinced.

“Really! Look, I’m sorry about sending you an email after everything. M- maybe we can get some coffee? Maybe there we can talk about your pay. I- I feel like I should give you some kind of compensation, at least while you’re looking for different work,” Patrick tried. 

The moment Patrick saw Ned’s beak frown, he knew he fucked up somewhere. “I really don’t need your charity, Mr. Flud. Good luck with your future endeavors. Romantic or otherwise...” Ned said as he turned away. 

“Wait, Ned!” Patrick called out, but the doors were shut tight. Anger swirled around deep inside Patrick’s chest as he pointed at Liquidator who rose up from the carpet. “You!” he shouted. 

“What about me?” Liquidator asked. 

“You told me on day one, I could do whatever I wanted! And not five minutes ago you told me you couldn’t have given two shits about who I fucked on my office desk!” Patrick shouted. 

“And?”

“So tell me why the fuck did Ned get fired?” Patrick asked. 

“Why do you assume I had anything to do with it?” The Liquidator asked with a shrug. 

“Because you’re a fucking greedy, selfish, egotistical, sociopath!” Patrick growled. “What was it? Didn’t want the public to get the idea that Bud Flud might be gay?”

Liquidator almost looked offended by the statements Patrick had made. “Whether you believe it or not, Patrick, I do have your best interests in mind. I told you during our first interview that I would take care of you. That means keeping you happy and complicit. Interfering with your love life would counteract that.” 

“...Really?” Patrick asked. 

“You have my word or your money back, guaranteed,” The Liquidator said in his usual salesman voice. 

Patrick looked contemplative at this point. He was now convinced that The Liquidator had no bearing on the situation. “So if you didn’t send the email… who did?” he asked. 

“That’s something I’ll be leaving to you,” Liquidator said, as he began to walk out of the office doors. 

“Wait. Aren’t you going to stick around and see how this plays out?” Patrick asked. 

“Are you planning to kill anyone over this?” Liquidator asked as he turned back towards Patrick. 

“I… No!” Patrick exclaimed, incredibly confused. 

“Then I’ll be leaving,” his boss said in an uninterested tone of voice. “Do come over to the warehouse if you feel like killing someone, though.”

With that, Liquidator promptly left Patrick alone in his large office. Confused and frustrated, he decided to pull up his email on his computer. Sure enough, he found an email from his sent inbox directly addressed to Ned. 

Logically, Liquidator was a prime suspect. After all, he had access to every password Patrick had made since taking on this job. But Patrick wasn’t fully convinced. 

So Patrick took the email and began to cross reference it with other emails he had gotten from within the company. Starting with the people who has the most authority to fire Ned; the board. He scanned the email furiously, trying to find patterns in terms of language or even grammar. 

It took him hours, but eventually Patrick found what he was looking for. “Got you…” he said triumphantly to himself.

The email belonged to Mr. Wayne Stephens who had been a member of the board since the founding of the company. It was going to be hard to confront him, especially considering Stephens had the power to vote him out as CEO if he so desired. 

Still, Patrick wanted clear answers so he printed out both emails and began his journey to Mr. Stephens’ office. He gave a small rap at the door before bursting inside. 

A more heavyset duck sat at the other end of the office behind a very expensive looking desk. He looked up from his papers and made eye contact with Patrick. “Oh, hello Bud,” he greeted. 

“Wayne,” Patrick practically spat. 

“Is there something I can help you with?”

“Start by explaining this,” Patrick said as he slammed the email onto Wayne’s desk. 

“What’s that?” 

“It’s an email that was sent from my business email to Ned Harrison,” Patrick explained, “an email you sent to him, telling him he was fired. You see, it’s all in the style of the writing, Wayne. Like here, when you used the phrase—“ 

“Alright Bud, let me stop you there. Mr. Harrison was fired collectively by the board. We thought it’d be best to break the news from someone who had inappropriate, intimate, relations with him,” Wayne explained. 

Patrick’s face reddened deeply by those words. 

“And believe me, if I had it my way, I would have fired both of you faggots. But, despite the shocking evidence we found, I was severely outvoted,” he continued in such a casual manner.

At this point, Patrick was too embarrassed and shocked to say anything back. The last time anyone had called him by that slur, it was when he attended High School. He had not expected it to come from one of his employees.

“I’ll admit, I did write the email. So that was some good sleuthing on your end. Now, if you’ll excuse me, some of us have our priorities straightened out. Be sure not to fuck any other pansies on your way out, unless you want us to fire them too,” Wayne said as he gestured for Patrick to leave.

With nothing left to say, Patrick simply turned away, even though he was getting angrier by the second. Once the office door closed behind him he went back to his office, feeling like an utter fool and a freak.

It had taken him many, many years to come to terms with his identity. He silently struggled with it during his Jr High and High School days. Those days had been filled with nothing but hormones and drama, First, he had realized he was gay when he slept over at a best friend’s house. Though, he lost the title pretty quickly after he drunkenly kissed him on top of his roof under the stars. 

Rumors flew around and reached his household, where Patrick learned first hand about how ugly homophobia looked. He saw it every time his father raised his hand at him. There were days where Patrick almost believed him when he said he could punch the gay out of him. There had been days where he wished he had.

It wasn’t until Patrick attended college when he was taught about being aromantic. After studying about different sexualities, Patrick had also learned about romantic orientation. He felt like he had hit the jackpot when he learned all he could about aromantics. It fit him perfectly and the world started to make more sense. 

Now, Patrick was stronger and he was smarter than he was back then. He wasn’t going to tolerate being bullied in his own company. Luckily, he knew where he needed to take this. He needed to find The Liquidator.

Traveling to the warehouse felt like a fever dream. One minute he was in his office building and the next he was driving at high speeds towards the same warehouse where he had been kidnapped all those months ago.

Even as he was patted down by The Asshole and The Jerk, he was focused on one thing. Never before had Patrick felt so full of anger and hate towards a single individual. 

“I want you to fire Mr. Wayne Stephens,” Patrick said as he burst into Liquidator’s office.

The Liquidator looked quiet and contemplative, “The Wayne Stephens from our board?” he asked, gesturing for Patrick to sit down.

“Yes,” Patrick replied as he took the seat across from Liquidator.

“Are you sure you want to open a tab for this, Patrick?”

“I’m sorry, do what now?” 

“Some call it favors. I call it opening a tab. You ask me for something and when the time comes, you do something for me and the cycle continues. I call it opening a tab,” Liquidator clarified. 

“I… didn’t realize I had you in my back pocket,” Patrick admitted. 

“Oh but of course, Patrick. You’ve done more than enough to earn my trust. You’ve run my company solid for six months, you’ve harbored myself and my cohorts during heated moments… and much much more! I just want to be sure you calling for this favor is your way of opening the tab.”

Patrick looked like he was on the verge of calling everything off. He looked even more nervous as Liquidator was presented with a laminated file containing information on the board member. But just when Liquidator thought he had Patrick pinned, the dog spoke. “It is. Yeah,” he said. 

“Well alright then. Boys, you know what to do,” The Liquidator said as he slid the file to the end of his desk. The Asshole picked it up and began to walk away. “And I hope I don’t need to remind you all to clean up after yourselves, properly this time?” he called after the three. 

“Wait…” Patrick started, confused.

“Yeah, yeah. We got it, boss,” The Jerk said back. 

With that, the three had left The Liquidator’s office. The water mutant smiled deviously at Patrick. “So…? How are we feeling, knowing you just sent out your first hit?” He asked with an enthusiastic tone. 

“What do you mean, ‘first hit’? I just wanted you to fire the guy!” Patrick exclaimed, standing from his seat. 

“Fired, order for him to turn up dead in a ditch, it sure all sounds the same to me,” Liquidator said with a shrug. 

“I’ve gotta stop this,” Patrick said, heading towards the door. 

“You think you’re going to play the hero? For one measly board member? What’d he do to piss you off, anyways?” Liquidator asked, standing and stepping towards Patrick with a curious expression.

“He… he fired Ned and called me a faggot,” Patrick admitted, feeling his deep seeded anger swirl around in his gut. 

“No one else heard him say that, right?” Liquidator asked, moving around him like a shark.

“No,”

“Then you’re in the clear. Just sit back, relax and let my cronies do what they do best. Listen, Patrick, I have to tell you now, you’re not just here to run my company…” Liquidator saw the confusion and worry in Patrick’s eyes, “I want you to play the game.” 

“What game?”

“I want to help you become your best self; a villain.”

Patrick shook his head, “Oh no, that’s your bullshit. The agreement was I’d be running your company, that’s it.”

“Alright then. Suit yourself,” Liquidator said with a small shrug.

Liquidator’s response only left Patrick feeling even more confused. For a mutant who had him at his absolute mercy, he was rather agreeable to Patrick’s rejection. “Good. I’ll uh... I’ll be seeing you, then,” Patrick mumbled before he walked away. 

“Goodnight, Patrick,” Liquidator said.

As Patrick drove home his head was racing a mile a minute. The evening in its entirety didn’t sit well with him. The confrontation with Stephens, calling on Liquidator’s favor and with Liquidator revealing all of his cards. Patrick didn’t want to be a villain. All he wanted was more respect and more money in his pocket. 

Right?


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: alcohol, abuse and sex work.

_A few years ago…_

As soon as Michael crossed the threshold of the night club, the baseline resonated through this chest. He saw fog crawl through the strip club, highlighted only by the neon lights flashing from the stage as scantily clad female and male dancers gave their all.

This definitely wasn’t his typical scene.

Sure, Michael was a junior in the heart of the college district in Saint Canard, but Michael was more mild mannered than most students his age. He liked to think he was more focused than his peers. But it wasn’t like he didn’t like the idea of letting loose and having some fun, especially on his birthday.

Admittedly, Michael would have much preferred a nice outing to a movie or something, but he had reached a milestone.

Michael jumped at the sudden hand that clasped his left shoulder. His roommate Derek was far more enthusiastic, for sure. The falcon grinned widely at his dalmatian friend. “C’mon, birthday boy, don’t chicken out on me now,” he said.

“I got through the door, didn’t I? Besides, any time away from our nightmare of a roomie is a good time,” Michael said firmly.

“Good! Then go find a seat and I’ll grab us some drinks.”

And like that, Derek was gone. The hound was left to scout out a few vacant seats on his own. It was surprisingly crowded with drunk patrons and entertainers alike. While Michael was hoping for something a little more out of the way, he spotted a couple of seats directly in front of a vacant part of the stage on the far right of the club.

Michael sat down, taking in the atmosphere of it all. This certainly beat his original plan of staying in the dorms and heating up some frozen pizza. And knowing his other roommate, he would probably just get scolded for using his pizza cutter or some bullshit like that. Right now, Michael was enjoying seeing the pretty people working the poles.

Sure, he had a preference to guys, but it wasn’t like he couldn’t sit and appreciate the female form. Sitting like this so far away gave things a voyeuristic flair he hadn’t really expected. It wasn’t unwelcome, though.

That’s when Derek came into his line of sight with a tray of shots. “Derek…” Michael warned.

“Come on! It’s not like we have class tomorrow. Let’s live it up!” Derek said as he placed the tray in front of Michael. The dog still looked hesitant, “I’ll knock one back with you,” Derek proposed as he sat in the empty seat next to him.

For some reason, that statement only caused Michael to feel more pressure than before. Still, he took a shot glass in front of him and waited for Derek’s mark. The two swallowed their respective shots, but Michael was the one who began to cough to try and ease the burn in his throat. When the burn subsided, he could taste the flavoring left behind on his tongue.

“Eeeh?”

“N- not bad,” Michael said.

“That’s the spirit!” After a few more shots, Derek spoke up again, “Don’t you wanna get closer to the dancers?” he asked.

Michael waved his hand and shook his head in response, “I’m good here,” he said quickly.

Derek gave him a doubtful look. It wouldn’t have mattered much anyways, because before he could say another word a figure walked onto the catwalk directly in front of them.

Both of their eyes raked upwards, taking in the strong and muscular figure of another tan male dog in tight briefs. His broad shoulders rose in a flinch and a certain familiarity crossed his expression.

“Wait…” Derek trailed off.

“Patrick?” Michael asked in disbelief.

It was none other than their third roommate, Patrick Easton. After the initial shock wore off of his face from seeing his roommates amongst the regular crowd, they watched as Patrick composed himself. Excitement began to boil deep inside his chest. This was his moment to shine. While any sane person would feel remorse or shame, Patrick was starting to revel in the fact that his two roommates were being subjected to his dancing. He watched them closely as he got a hold of the groove echoing throughout the club.

Michael felt his heart pounding harder in his chest as he watched Patrick work his magic. Arguably the worst roommate in existence was now in front of him and dancing suggestively along the catwalk. Not to mention, he was dancing rather well. Michael watched as Patrick grabbed a hold of a pole and began to twist around it.

Soon, Patrick was lost to the rhythm. He had a job to do and he knew how to do it well. Both of his roommates' jaws were hanging wide open as he danced along the pole with ease. Patrick even did some gravity-defying stunts for good measure. They couldn’t help but sit and admire the raw strength that Patrick was displaying. His arms flexed tightly as he twirled his body around the pole.

They had always cracked jokes amongst their peers about taking up sex work in order to pay for college. Though no one actually thought to do it. No one except Patrick, apparently. And, as much as they didn’t want to admit it, he was doing a spectacular job.

Seeing Patrick like this only caused more questions to form in Michael’s mind. How long had he been doing this? Was this job something he did on the side?

All these questions and more rang loudly around Michael’s head. And yet, he couldn’t vocalize any of them, even as Patrick sauntered off the stage to look his roommates dead in the eye. Before either could say a word, Patrick straddled Micheal’s lap.

Micheal did absolutely nothing to stop Patrick. He wasn’t ashamed to admit, even before he was half-naked in his lap, Patrick was conventionally attractive. He hadn’t really noticed just how much only because Patrick typically hid his muscles behind his plain button-up shirts.

Clearly, this job had its benefits.

“What are you two assholes doing here?” Patrick snapped while he began to rhythmically move just above Michael’s lap.

“It’s Micheal’s birthday, dipshit,” Derek told him through gritted teeth, “You would’ve known that if you ever looked at the chore calendar.”

Patrick rolled his eyes, “I’ll take a look at the chore calendar when you both stop dipping into my alcohol,” he spat back.

Michael would have said something back, but he was thoroughly distracted by Patrick and his dancing. He still wasn’t sure if he had a type when it came to men, but Patrick was unintentionally making a very convincing argument. He wanted nothing more than to reach out towards him and run his hands through his light tan fur. Just to feel his firm muscles.

Patrick’s black ears perked slightly when he shifted his attention to Michael. Then a devilish smile grew across his face, “You enjoying the show, Mikey?”

It took Micheal a moment to find the words, even then, “I— uh, y- no?”

“No?” Patrick asked in a sultry tone, “You sure, big boy?”

A mixture of a whimper and a sheepish laugh came bubbling from Micheal’s throat. He could feel his body betray his bluff. And Patrick had seen enough tight pants to know better.

“Oh come on, Patrick, you know Michael’s too gay for this shit,” Derek defended.

“Word on the street says Mikey likes girls too… I’ve got a beautiful lady friend who’d just love to meet you. We could go halfsies, maybe? I could get you a special birthday discount,” Patrick said with a small wink.

Micheal felt his heartbeat lurch to his throat. Patrick turned around and continued to dance, swaying his small black tail to the beat. In his mind’s eye, Micheal wanted nothing more than to pull on that tail so he could hear the pitiful whines escape Patrick’s mouth.

“Bro, Michael and I just want to have a good time—“

“What makes you think he wouldn’t have a good time with me?” Patrick asked, “You wanna come along, Derek? You feeling jealous?”

“Oh hell no,” Derek said, looking and sounding absolutely repulsed.

“Then let the birthday boy decide what he wants to do,” Patrick said simply.

Michael was starting to feel even more hot under his collar. “This is too weird, isn’t it?”

“Is it?” Patrick asked, pausing his dancing to lean in closer to Michael’s ear, “I’m a prostitute. I’m aromantic, Mike. Absolutely no strings attached. The perfect storm. You can use me to your heart’s content.”

That was a very compelling argument for Michael. Patrick moved away to search Michael’s eyes. Looking into those overblown, lust-filled eyes it was clear he had him ensnared.

“...Fffuck it,” Michael groaned.

“God damn it,” Derek swore, shaking his head.

Patrick’s tail started to swish back and forth in triumph. Not to mention the smirk painted across his face. He moved away and presented his hand to help Michael out of his seat.

“I’m gonna need a lot more alcohol,” Michael said.

“I’ll get you everything you need, birthday boy,” Patrick said as he led him away from Derek.

As it turned out, Michael ended up with Patrick all to himself. And it was one of the most memorable nights of his life, thanks to Patrick. Unfortunately, it was a memorable night for Patrick for entirely different reasons.

By the time Michael left, Patrick picked up only a few more clients. As he was tallying for the night, he knew that he would come up short before presenting it to his boss. Fear creeped up in Patrick’s chest as he saw Jared, a hulking seagull from behind the bar, counting the other dancers’ money.

Patrick tried to put on his best face, “Hey Jared,” he said as he put his stack on the bar.

Jared’s eyes flickered from the money to Patrick, “There better be some hundreds in there, Pat,” he said.

“Well you see, funny story, you would never guess who came to see me dance—“

“Kate already told me you gave handouts,” Jared interrupted.

Fucking Kate, “Oh come on, I wouldn’t call it that. I gave a buddy a discount.” Patrick said with a weak smile.

“You’ve got a quota to meet, Pat. You’re starting to cost me more than you’re worth. Does that sound like you’re the kind of guy who should be allowed to give out discounts?” his boss asked.

“Is this about the hole in the wall from last week? I didn’t know the guy would go berserk. Besides, you should’ve just taken my suggestion and made it a gloryhole,” Patrick shrugged.

Jared didn’t like Patrick’s suggestion. He made that abundantly clear from the way he took Patrick to the small bar’s kitchen and proceeded to beat the shit out of him.

Patrick knew he couldn’t stick around for long. He was sure he would end up dead for it, and he knew no one would care. Not his roommates, not even his family. Patrick only stayed for the next two years because of how much money he made, to survive. For a little while, that small itch was scratched.

Patrick vowed to himself that he would never let someone rule over his life like that again.

_Years later…_

“Patrick, I’m going to need you to go to the hardware store…” Liquidator asked of him.

“I’m sorry, you want me to do what now?” Patrick shot back from behind his desk.

Within the first year and a half of working for Liquidator, the mutant tried to keep things professional. As professional as one can be after kidnapping and forcing someone to act as CEO of a billion dollar company. However, he continued to ask for personal favors from Patrick.

It wasn’t that Patrick didn’t want to know about his personal life, far from it. Bud intrigued Patrick to a degree that made him uncomfortable admitting out loud. It was just as they continued working together, these tasks were becoming more demanding by the day.

At first, he asked for errands. Patrick understood that as a criminal with an appearance like Bud’s, it was hard to engage and navigate their capitalist society. So he would humor Bud and pick things up for him and their family.

The fact that Liquidator even had a family came to Patrick as a surprise. He didn’t expect someone with such an extensive criminal record like Bud to have that kind of desire. But with what little he knew of Liquidator and Bushroot’s relationship, he was guessing it had only been a matter of time. For what it was worth, Patrick was happy for them.

Sometimes, Bud would tag along on errand runs. They only had one incident that involved Darkwing and-- even though they ended up crashing a stolen vehicle-- they had kept the masked hero off of their scent.

“No sir, Mr. Darkwing, I’ve never seen that mutant dog in my life,” Patrick had lied.

“Okay, Mr. Flud. Thank you for your cooperation,” Darkwing said.

After that, more trust was formed between them. And as Liquidator continued to release Patrick’s reigns, he began to soar. Patrick was navigating social circles with a swagger and a self-confidence he never knew existed. With Liquidator in the shadows, there were next to no consequences and thus he had nothing to fear.

Bud Flud was starting to become a hot item; thanks to Patrick. And as he continued to work with Liquidator, he started to pick up a little bit of what it meant to be a good salesman. And it wasn’t just the quick one-liners. Patrick learned more to speak his mind in ways to get people behind him and his product.

Well, Bud’s product.

As time went on more things were falling into place for Patrick. He was being invited to the most luxurious parties in exotic places across the globe. To Patrick, this was the peak of luxury and wealth. To be able to rub elbows with the elite and exchange their ideologies.

Still, it wasn’t enough.

Patrick had believed that after all this time, if he had the right paycheck and the right reputation the itch would go away. Except, it didn’t. Sometimes, Patrick felt satisfied. The rush of a wealthy purchase, starting up an obnoxiously expensive rental car in an unfamiliar country. He loved exploring the gay nightlife scene once he was off the clock. It always held a sense of familiarity to him back in his college town.

However, once the rush faded, Patrick felt empty and unfulfilled.

Despite these feelings, Patrick was getting a good handle on things in terms of running Bud’s company. Even between all the inconvenient errands and tasks. As long as he wasn’t directly involved in any major crimes, Patrick was happy to assist Liquidator.

When it came to Liquidator’s son, however, that was a little bit of a different story...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed learning a little bit of Patrick’s backstory and the little tie-in I made for “It Came From St Canard“. If you liked what you read, please feel free to leave a comment!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Credit: Eleanor123 for writing Edward and co.’s dialogue  
Warnings: implied incest, be warned.

To climb the social ladder, you needed to act a part in it. That’s what Patrick lived by while he was acting CEO of Bud’s Essentials.

So when some CEO asked him along to a party, Patrick happily obliged. The party was full of people he didn’t know, but he had a keen eye for the prostitutes. Not that he minded. It wasn’t so unusual for him. Patrick had lots of instances of richer folks that would cherry pick some of the dancers from his old club just to up the body count of their parties to impress some big wigs.

So there Patrick was, in a fancy suit, sipping on some wine on a fancy yacht in the middle of Saint Canard bay. He was disappointed that no one had offered him anything stronger to drink. Still, he enjoyed the atmosphere.

_Now if only I can find a date for the evening. _Patrick thought mildly as he looked around the crowd, finishing off his wine. Maybe if he was lucky, he would find a nice rich boyfriend.

Patrick scoffed at the very idea and turned on his heels to find the bar inside. As he tried to get in, he ran into someone going out. Whoever it was ended up spilling some red wine on the suit Patrick was wearing.

“Aw _what_?! Watch where you’re—“ Patrick started before taking a hard look at who his assailant was. In front of him was a tall hawk of sorts, broad in his shoulders with brown feathers shaped like a mask over his yellow eyes. Patrick didn’t believe in love or love at first sight, but holy fuck this dude was hot.

“Oh dear- a thousand pardons, sir.” Edward Osprey reached into his pocket, pulling out a handkerchief to gently dab at the growing stain, unaware of how the man was reacting to him. “I hardly consider myself drunk by any means, but I was distracted. I didn’t notice you come by; entirely my fault.”

Patrick watched him for a moment before remembering to speak back. “Don’t worry about it,” he reassured him. “The host is about my size… I’ll just find his closet and raid it…” he said plainly, his expression full of mischievousness, wanting to gauge the bird’s reaction.

Edward’s eyes widened and cleared his throat. “I… am familiar with the host. Family acquaintance- my brothers and I had to attend this party for our parents. You are correct in your claim… though it might be difficult going into his quarters, what with all the security.”

The osprey thought it over. Stealing and breaking and entering were more George and William’s expertise, Edward just usually took the fall for them. Though the pressing guilt he felt about being the one to put this stranger in this predicament was weighing on him and giving him ideas…

“...I owe you clean clothes for my error. I’ll help you get in. By any means necessary.” he decided, hoping he didn’t appear as a troublemaker for this.

Patrick’s ears perked happily when he heard the other extend his offer to help. “I appreciate it. Name’s Bud, by the way…” he said, offering his hand. Four years into his deal and it was only starting to feel natural to introduce himself as such.

“Edward.” He held Patrick’s hand, lifting it up to kiss the back of it. Edward decided given his situation, he’d withhold his family name. “Please, follow me.”

Navigating through the crowds, Edward walked down the corridors of the yacht, finding a staircase leading to the private quarters usually off limits for events. Peering around the corner he noted two guards absentmindedly making their rounds up and down the hallway, and several rooms that could not be mistaken as anything other than bedrooms. He tsked; diversion in these situations worked best with his brothers around to make a group, but he wasn’t about to drag what he considered an innocent bystander down with him.

“Let’s see…close quarters is too risky to make a break for it, and the vents for yachts like these aren’t suitable for crawling through...shouting and causing the guards to run would lead to more hassle than it’s worth…” Edward hummed, deep in thought as he ran through plans in his head. “...there’s always that but…”

Patrick sized up the guards and the hall. He made the assumption that the host’s main cabin was the one at the end of the hall. A plan formulated in his mind, one that he felt was a benefit for both Edward and himself. “I got an idea. We makeout in front of them, make them uncomfortable as all hell and force them to let us into the room.” Patrick offered. He had tried that technique many times before to get in where he wanted.

Edward’s face turned bright red at the idea. “I-I was actually just going to suggest I introduce myself and claim you are an escort I wish to take with me to the bedroom. My connection with the host would let me in… I just wasn’t certain you’d be comfortable with being put in such a position…” He looked between Patrick and the floor out of mild embarrassment. “...apologies for making assumptions… if making out would be more suitable then-”

“Keep that in mind if it goes south, babe.” Patrick interrupted just before giving Edward a small wink. Without letting him get in another word, Patrick grabbed Edward’s ascot to pull himself and the osprey out of hiding. He threw his back onto the closest door before drawing Edward into a heated kiss. He could feel the guard’s eyes on them. Patrick enjoyed this, being a spectacle.

On the other hand, Edward felt extremely flushed and nervous, not used to attention and certainly never trying to make a scene of himself. Still, he agreed to this, and there was no denying the fact that Patrick was indeed a very good kisser. Groaning in his mouth, Edward’s hands grabbed his body, a mixture of playing up their act and genuine desire to have the other man close to him. In truth, Edward had only done this sort of thing with a stranger at a party once or twice in his life.

Patrick moaned pleasantly and pushed into every touch Edward gave him. He was enjoying this. A lot. Remembering their task, Patrick felt for the doorknob and shook it. He growled lowly to feign his frustration. Then, he proceeded to pin Edward against the other wall. He nipped at his neck and brushed his thigh against Edward’s crotch.

It went without saying, but at this point, Patrick was turned on. He rattled the other locked door and then looked directly at one of the guards. “I swear to _god_, if either of you don’t open that door right now,” he said, gesturing to the master cabin behind the guard, “I will fuck myself on this man’s dick right here in this hallway…”

One guard seemed repulsed at the concept while the other seemed eager to see that. Edward inwardly hoped the former would win of the two. To his relief that appeared to be the case, as the bedroom door was opened and the guard made a passing comment not to make too much of a mess in there. The whole thing just made Edward flustered, even as Patrick dragged them both into the room with the door closing behind them.

“T-that...ha…” he panted, still aroused and out of breath from their actions as he sat on the edge of the bed. “That seemed to do… the trick… y-you should probably look for a change of clothes while they think… that we are- well…” Edward bit his beak trying not to give into his base instincts.

Patrick looked around briefly before settling his hungry eyes back onto Edward’s flustered face. He gave him a smug smile while he shrugged off his jacket. He wanted to get laid and he had just a clever enough idea on how to do it; bringing up his old area of expertise. “Has anyone told you how _cute_ you are? Also, nice observation on the whole ‘escort’ thing. Guess I was just made for this business.” he said with a small sigh as he began to unbutton his wine-stained shirt in front of Edward.

Yellow eyes widened, glancing away to give the man privacy. “I see… That would certainly explain your- um- ...talents.” He weakly laughed. “I would certainly recommend your services.”

Patrick was only mildly annoyed that Edward had turned away. He let the shirt fall to the floor and drew closer to him, placing a kiss on his burning cheek. “That’s very generous of you, recommending me to someone before you even try the whole package deal…” Patrick said, “Would you like my services, Edward? I know things got very heated out there…”

Edward made a small sound, looking over to him and gazing at his body. With how uncomfortable he was starting to feel in his pants, the offer was more than tempting. He swallowed. “Only if that’s what you want as well. Call me a fool if you must, but I do prefer to fuck with the intention of both people having pleasure...and you certainly already have me captivated.”

“Oh _trust_ me, the feeling is very mutual…” Patrick said. To emphasize, he removed his pants and exposed the erection he had been sporting for quite some time. “Any boundaries I should know about? Any particular fantasies I can help with?” he asked as he removed Edward’s jacket, his ascot following.

He seemed to relax more now that he made up his mind on their actions. Edward’s hands ran across Patrick’s form, pulling him down onto the bed and rolling him over to lie on his back while Edward looked down at him. “I typically follow along with my partner’s desires. Responding best to the types of things they ask of me.” He kissed Patrick firmly for a moment, before pulling back with an amused laugh as he unbuttoned his shirt. “I know it’s not that typical for a client to do that sort of thing for you… but consider me an exception. Think about exactly what it is you want from me and I’ll think it over…”

Blinking widely at Edward, Patrick had to actually think about it. Edward was right, most clients he had years ago always wanted something from him. Patrick wasn’t sure if this romantic had it in him, but he decided to give it a shot. “I usually like it rough. Not necessarily quick, just hard. As long as it doesn’t draw any blood, it’s fine.” Patrick told him, sneaking a hand inside Edward’s shirt before he pulled it off. _Jesus. Those muscles._

“I can manage that much.” He grinned, sliding off of the bed to walk around the room for a moment. “If I know our dear host, he most certainly has some lubricant around…” Opening a drawer, Edward immediately closed it with a bit of disgust. “Yes. I’m certain he does.” He opened a different drawer from the desk, pulling out of a half empty bottle. It almost killed his mood to picture the family friend being lewd in this very room.

Almost anyway, as Edward looked back at Patrick’s eager form. Humming, he decided to remove his own pants while he was standing, letting them fall to the floor with the rest of their clothes. There was a slight tingle of delight that came from watching Patrick’s reaction to his naked body. Edward wasn’t one to boast, but he had been told before that he was...desirable in many ways. “Enjoying yourself?”

Patrick didn’t even blink as he was caught red handed with his open palm on his cock. He simply smiled at Edward and playfully raised his brows, “Oh yes I am… you’re like a goddamn marble statue, Eddie boy.”

“Well then, it’s a good thing you said you liked things hard.” He smirked, moving back to the bed and coating his fingers in the lubricant. Once he put the bottle aside, his other hand reached over to grasp and stroke Patrick’s cock. “Let me help you with that…”

Patrick gave a huff of a laugh but it died in his throat the moment Edward touched him. He sighed and rolled his hips into Edward’s touch. “Ooh, yeah… well, look who’s enjoying themselves now…” he quipped.

“You don’t look like you’re complaining about that fact…” He laughed, feeling his own desire rising up and taking a moment to adjust their positioning. Rolling his hips down, let their cocks rub against one another for some temporary relief. Edward gave a small moan at the feeling, letting his hand stroke against them both.

“Oh fuck…” Patrick groaned, relishing in the feeling of them pressed together like this. After a minute or two, he started to whine slightly. “C’mon, I need more than tha- ahn, that… I want you to fuck me…”

“Eager aren’t you…?” Edward gave a thrust forward before readjusting himself, letting his coated fingers reach down and press against Patrick’s entrance. “I almost want to hear you beg…”

_I can do that_, Patrick thought to himself. He sighed and rolled his hips and spread his legs slightly in a lame attempt to get Edward’s fingers inside him. When they wouldn’t budge, he began to beg. “Please… _Please_ Ed, I need you s-so badly. I’m _so_ hard for you. I want your cock _deep_ inside me…”

Edward leaned up enough to kiss him, letting his fingers slip inside as he did. “As you wish…just let me get you ready for that first.” He honestly wasn’t sure why that first phrase came to him so naturally, but he chose not to question it. He started kissing and nipping at Patrick’s neck while his fingers worked to stretch him out in preparation.

The relief Patrick got from Edward putting his fingers inside of him was immense. He gave out a series of moans and closed his eyes as he felt himself being stretched. There was no other feeling like it. Patrick gripped the sheets tight and spread his legs even wider. “_Thaaat’s_ it…” He moaned.

Remembering what was asked of him earlier, Edward gave a few rough thrusts into him with his fingers, wanting to gauge Patrick’s response before fucking him properly. He was almost amazed with himself by his own anticipation of the idea. “Feeling ready now, Bud…? Cause I’m certainly eager to watch you while I fuck you senseless.”

Patrick nearly panicked when he heard the name slip from Edward’s lips. As much as he was used to hearing himself be addressed as Bud, it was still very odd for him to hear it in a sexual context. Patrick didn’t ever want to admit it to anyone but it always sounded… a little hot.

After Edward made a few choice thrusts, Patrick gasped and groaned. Letting him know that he was more than ready now. “Holy shit, _yes_… Yes, please…” he whined, giving Edward his full attention.

Kissing his neck once more, Edward pulled his fingers out with a grin. Gripping at Patrick’s hips, he positioned himself, slowly pushing his cock inside. “Ha- fuck…!” It’d been quite some time since Edward got laid. He felt enraptured from the pleasure, giving slow thrusts as he worked to enter fully.

“Oh… _fuck_…” Patrick managed to choke out as he adjusted to Edward’s cock. Instinctively, he put his hands above his head and gripped the pillows tightly. He bit his lip as he watched Edward move in and out of his body. As good as he felt, Patrick didn’t want to forget his bedside manner. “God, your cock feels so _fucking good_. Ha… C’mon Ed, fuck me with that big cock of yours…” he moaned as he curled his legs tight around Edward’s waist.

“Heh...just try to stop me at this point…” Snapping his hips forward, he thrusted hard into Patrick, keeping a steady grip on his waist. He moaned low, starting to enjoy cutting loose a bit. Edward was mindful to watch Patrick’s expression intently as he fucked him with rough and deep motions. As much as he was enjoying it, he did ultimately want to make sure he wasn’t harming the other man after all. “Mfh, you feel great…”

“Tell me s-something I don’t know…” Patrick said with a wicked smile. He continued to meet Edward’s thrusts with absolute abandon. Without warning, Patrick gave a small shout as he felt him hit that special bundle of nerves. He looked at Edward with pleading eyes as he cried out, “Oh there, r-right there! Holy _shit_!”

Pulling him closer, Edward worked to focus on that spot, wanting to hear him completely come undone like that again. He could feel his own excitement spiking from everything but a part of him, a proud part of him, wanted to make Patrick cum before he did. Without even thinking, his hand gripped at Patrick’s tail.

A pitiful whine escaped Patrick the moment Edward tugged at his tail. His hands flew around Edward’s back as he crowded him. “O-oh fuck… I-” with a few more choice thrusts, Patrick couldn’t hold back anything. He felt his cum paint across their stomachs. He didn’t want it to stop so soon, though. Especially when he knew Edward wasn’t satisfied just yet. “K-keep going, c’mon, I can take it…” he growled in Edward’s ear.

“I’m aware, and I plan to have you t-take all of it…” Lifting Patrick up, he brought him on his lap. Gripping at his waist, Edward fucked him hard, face flushed and panting heavily. “F-fuck…!” A few moments passed and he felt his limit hit him hard, coming inside of Patrick and biting down on his collarbone instinctively.

Patrick felt himself tremble before he cried out. Another orgasm was forced from him moments after Edward finished inside him. He gasped for air as he leaned his weight against Edward to recover. Patrick lifted his hips slowly and felt Edward slide from his body. “Holy shit…” he breathed.

Edward licked at the mark he left apologetically, bringing the two of them down to the bed and resting against the pillows. Trying to catch his breath again, he held Patrick close to him, desperate for a sense of connection with a stranger he knew would likely just be a one time fling. “S-sorry...for the bite, I mean.”

The blush on Patrick’s face refused to leave as Edward held him tight. He wasn’t unfamiliar with his lovers wanting aftercare, but it was always a bit of a surprise. Patrick considered himself lucky. Typically, from what he remembered back then, the richer his clients were the more careless and inconsiderate they would be. But not tonight.

Patrick slowly… slowly held Edward back. “It’s alright,” he told him, “Trust me, it helped.”

“Even still, I could’ve broken skin and made you bleed. That was reckless, and I apologize for that.” He pulled back enough to kiss him slowly. Edward laughed gently when he realized something. “Though it seems like I’m just constantly apologizing to you, aren’t I?”

Patrick laughed a little as well, “And I haven’t accepted a single one… Okay then, thank you for apologizing for the shirt.”

Edward kissed him again, gently and sweetly before pulling away reluctantly at a different realization. “The party. Oh god, I completely forgot about that. We should probably make efforts to get back before we’re missed…” Letting go of Patrick, Edward sat up and looked around. “There’s an ensuite bathroom...you can have the first shower if you’d like.”

_Speak for yourself_, Patrick thought. The dog got up slowly and stretched himself. “I guess you’re right. You sure you don’t wanna join me?” he asked, lingering around the bathroom’s door frame, his tail still going.

Edward paused from picking up and placing their clothes on the bed. He looked over at Patrick with a small blush. “...that depends on if you’d want me to join you.” Taking elegant strides he walked over to the door, leaning against it as he looked at Patrick and gently stroked the man’s cheek. “I certainly wouldn’t be against letting the memory of you last a little longer. If you ask me anyway.”

Everything about this man was almost too polite for Patrick’s taste. Still, he smiled and leaned into Edward’s touch. “Then here’s me asking; please, join me…?” he asked softly.

“Alright then…” He gave a small bow following Patrick inside the luxurious bathroom. The shower stall was as spacious as he expected it to be with glass doors and a tiled floor. Edward leaned over, wrapping his arms around Patrick from behind and kissed at his neck. “Though I must warn you, I don’t think I’ll be able to keep my hands off of you.”

Patrick’s ears stood at the sound of that. “Ooh! You sure that isn’t a promise?” he asked with a teasing smile. Even with Edward practically glued to him, Patrick made moves to turn the shower on and check the temperature with his hand. Once it was acceptable, he pulled them both inside and shut the door. “This seems to be working out _just_ fine,” Patrick said, turning towards Edward and grabbing his ass.

“Seems that way.” He kissed Patrick roughly, pressing him against the wall as warm water washed over them. Edward pulled back with a laugh, nuzzling against Patrick a bit. “I’ll admit; this is absolutely a first for me. Not even sure where to begin…”

“Oh? A shower virgin? God, you are so _cute_…” Patrick breathed, splaying his hands through Edward’s chest feathers. “You can have me a couple ways: my chest on the wall and ass out or my back against the wall while I sit on your hips… if you’re feeling _brave_ and _strong_ enough…”

“Sounds like _someone’s_ hinting that they want that.” Edward smirked, lifting Patrick in his arms, pressed against him on the wall. “Shower virgin, maybe, but weak isn’t one of my traits.”

Patrick let out a small shout as soon as he was lifted up. He couldn’t help himself but laugh a little in surprise. “Good man... “ Patrick said in awe of Edward’s strength. He teased him by jerking his hips slightly, feeling Edward’s erection on his ass. “Show me how big and strong you are, Edward…”

He nipped at his ear, letting a hand run down Patrick’s ass. His fingers entered easily as he worked him, not taking as long as before to get Patrick ready before sliding his dick inside. Everything about this was exciting and new. Edward moaned as he entered, fixated on Patrick entirely.

“Ooh fuck…” Patrick moaned, unable to look away from Edward’s piercing eyes as he sank onto his cock. He was at Edward’s mercy and he liked that feeling. Patrick’s arms tightened around his neck and panted as he felt his body adjust once more. He thrusted his hips slightly, “C’mon… fuck me with that big dick of yours.” he hissed.

“Someone’s very demanding. But I can’t say I’m arguing.” Edward thrusted upwards, his grip on Patrick’s waist tight as he lifted the man and let him drop on his cock. Trying to find a rhythm with their positioning, he focused on just driving it home with rough motions, knowing Patrick responded best to them. “C-c’mon Bud...I want to hear you…”

Partly from demand and partly because he couldn’t contain himself, Patrick began to groan. He continued to tell Edward what he thought he wanted to hear, “I-I love your big cock, Edward. It feels so g-good inside of me. Ooh, fuck yeah… Fuck this dirty hole… I want your cum inside my ass, Edward… Edward, say my name, please…”

Edward kissed him deeply, roughly giving a few more thrusts before cumming inside him once more with Bud’s name on his lips. He couldn’t decide if it was the environment, his partner, or the fact he already came shortly beforehand, but Edward didn’t care that it was a bit quicker than he anticipated. He pulled out of Patrick, their mess washing away with the water. “Ha...i-if that’s not enough for you, I think I could s-still try to make it worth your while…”

Patrick stared at Edward in near disbelief, panting from the work they had been doing. Most of, if not all of, his former clients wouldn’t have given two shits about whether he had finished. They would have just simply left him high and dry without a second thought. It didn’t bother him either, as long as he got paid. This was very different for him. “Uh… If you want…?” Patrick asked with a small shrug, curious and waiting.

Putting Patrick down on his feet again, Edward kissed him briefly before kneeling down. A different kind of first for him, but he did want to try to do this. Cautiously, he started to lick at Patrick’s cock, his hand reaching up to stroke him off where his tongue wasn’t.

Like his hand was magnetized, Patrick held onto Edward’s head gently. “Ooh, fuck yes... “ he moaned, his excitement showing through his trembling legs. “Y-you can pull my tail too, i-if you want…” Patrick said, oddly feeling shy. He was caught off guard, after all.

If his face wasn’t red before, it certainly was now. Edward did what was asked, gripping at Patrick’s tail as he worked his cock. After a while, Edward removed his hand and panted for a moment before slowly taking Patrick in his mouth. It felt odd, and he was unsure what he was doing, but he let his tongue move against the dick in his mouth as he moved up and down it.

It didn’t take much longer for Patrick to put a couple of clues together. Edward had clearly never done this before. At least, not blowjobs. Patrick felt a rush like never before. He always liked dealing with virgins in some form or another. It was always either a total disaster he could relay to his co-workers or something he could keep in his spank bank. Either way, it was a grand time.

With this knowledge, Patrick looked at Edward fondly. “Y-you don’t have to have it deep, if you don’t w-want it hitting th-the back of your throat…” he instructed, “Ah, the roof of your mouth is f-iiine-- keep going with whatever it is your tongue is doing, jesus _christ_…”

Appreciating the guidance, Edward moaned in response. The hand that wasn’t gripping and tugging Patrick’s tail started to massage his inner thigh, moving to cup his balls. The osprey looked up at him as he worked, sucking and licking away what he could manage, wanting nothing more than to satisfy Patrick this way.

Patrick could feel his orgasm curling from all the stimulation he was receiving. He looked at Edward dead in the eye, his face completely flushed and panting desperately. “Holy fuck, t-that’s good… You’re so good, I-I’m gonna…!” was Patrick’s only warning before he burst.

As he came, Edward spluttered a bit, pulling away as some dripped off of his beak. He swallowed what he could, panting heavily as he recovered from the sensation. The shower water cleaned his face easily as he stayed knelt on the ground to recover. “...T-that was...an experience…” he laughed.

Hearing Edward’s laughter caused Patrick to laugh as well between his gasping breaths. “I’ll say... Not bad for your first time.” he said nonchalantly as he gave Edward his hand to help him up.

“Had a good teacher.” He remarked with a smile.

Actually allowing themselves to be cleaned from the shower, the pair stepped out and dried themselves off with plush towels. For a party he wasn’t looking forward to, it certainly was proving to be quite a fun and eventful night for Edward. He reached for the doorknob and froze, hearing familiar voices on the other end of it.

“C’mon, where did that fuddy duddy hide his good alcohol?”

“Well it wouldn’t be in his underwear drawer, I can tell you that much, dumbass.”

Edward turned quickly, pressing his back against the bathroom door. His face looked pale, speaking under his breath. “It’s my brothers.”

Patrick’s ears rose high both out of curiosity and as a way to pick up their conversation. “Oh? Brothers? Are they as cute as you are?” he asked just as loudly with a smug smile.

He rolled his eyes. “We share the same father, so we do share similar faces and physiques. They’re twins, and if they knew I slept with someone under their noses-” Edward grimaced. “I would not hear the end of it…”

“Looks like uncle got busy at one point.” George commented.

“Ewww, don’t say that- the geezer is already an eyesore, I don’t want to throw images of him getting lucky into the nightmare fuel!”

Edward dragged a hand down his face. “Fuck...I’m so fucked right now…”

Twins. The ultimate fantasy. Though, Patrick was sure Edward didn’t want to be subjected to any part of that. The least he could do was deter them somehow. Patrick gently placed his hand on the doorknob and looked at Edward, hoping for him to move. “Got an idea… Stay out of sight, okay?” he asked.

Hesitant for a moment, Edward nodded, stepping away from the door and keeping to the side to keep from being seen. A skill he very much perfected in his lifetime. “Good luck. And thank you- for everything.”

Patrick gave Edward a small wink after wrapping his only towel around his head. Stark naked, Patrick stepped out of the bathroom and froze when he met the twins’ gaze. “What’s the big idea? Daddy didn’t mention any other playmates…” he asked as he put a hand on his hip.

William dropped what looked like what might have been a pretty expensive vase, shattering it as he stared at Patrick intently. “Hubba hubba, look at the pretty boy toy.”

George peeked his head out from the walk in closet he was rummaging in and had a similar expression, whistling loudly. “Wow, uncle really doesn’t hold back from luxurious purchases does he? Wonder how much cash it cost him to afford a night with that.”

Admittedly, a lot of Patrick’s plan had hinged on the twins having similar personalities to Edward, or one of them being straight. When he saw that wasn’t the case, he felt a bit more nervous. “A lot more than your dicks combined, now get out of here before I call those security guys.” Patrick said with a growl.

“Do we _haaave_ to?” William moved closer, eyeing his body up and down. “Maybe we don’t have as much money to throw around as he does, but I’d imagine our two dicks combined would satisfy you a whole lot more than that one-foot-in-the-grave old man could eveeer do…” He raised a hand up to run across Patrick’s face, a finger running underneath his chin.

Patrick shivered at the touch and he swallowed hard. It was so hard to think with his upper brain. Another idea came to mind as he gave William a similar look. “Then how about we move this to the room with the real booze?” he was bluffing about the booze, but he was secretly hoping that he would be able to score with the two, “Besides, I would hate for Daddy to come back and see me occupied with his handsome nephews.” Patrick offered in a seductive tone.

William smirked, leaning back to his brother. “Whaddya say, George? Think he’s hiding it in the room next door?”

“Well it definitely isn’t here, I’ll tell you that much.” George stepped out, walking over. “Besides, if we want to have some real fun with our little slut, then I’m not doing anything on an already soiled bed, gross.” He groped Patrick’s ass, leering at him. “You want to get dressed at all, or shall we gentlemen escort you down the hall like this?”

Patrick gave a small groan and bit his lip when George groped him. “Personally, I’d prefer some pants… at the very least…” he said as he made moves to get himself halfway dressed, forgoing his underwear and other discarded clothes. Once he was dressed, he beckoned the brothers with his finger while he walked out the door.

George and William followed swiftly, grinning and passing each other sly looks as they left the room. Once the door clicked close, Edward waited a few moments more before exiting the bathroom. He shouldn’t have been surprised that had been Patrick’s plan, though he couldn’t deny he was a bit disappointed. Worried was the dominating concern though; even pushing aside the disgust factor, he pitied anyone who wanted to sleep with his less than kind brothers.

Changing back into his clothes, Edward knew had to find a way to apologize to the man once more before the party ended.

With the way George and William were treating Patrick, it was clear neither of them saw him as a person but rather an object to fuck, as they both wanted to work for their own pleasure without any regard for him whatsoever. And Patrick was loving every second of it. Truly, this was his element. To be nothing but an instrument of pleasure. Even under such extremities, Patrick was thriving.

“N-not bad…” George ended up commenting, not really wanting to give Patrick the satisfaction of knowing he did fucking amazing.

Unsurprisingly, Patrick hadn’t actually finished between the two. From the way the two were acting around him, he knew they could care less. Same old, same old. He thought as he sat up on the bed, panting and wiping his face. “Glad… I could be of service…” he said while catching his breath.

Patrick made his way off of the bed and picked up his pants. He turned to the twins, “So which one of you is paying for it?” he asked point-blank.

“Er-” The twins looked at each other.

“...Eddie has the money right?” George questioned as William sat upright like a bucket of cold water got tossed on them both.

“Yeah, cause mummy and daddy thought we’d be ‘too irresponsible’ to hold onto the wallet.” He airquoted with an eye roll, getting up to get dressed again. William held up the half empty whiskey bottle. “But we can get little brother dearest to cut loose quick enough.”

“Give us half an hour to track our brother down and get him wasted. If we get him to drink enough, he’ll not only give us the money, but be so fucked up he won’t remember anything for the past twenty four hours.” George grinned. “We were planning that anyway; he caught us wrecking mom’s painting and even if he says he won’t tell on us, we want to make that absolutely certain.”

Obviously, Patrick didn’t even need the money. He was just fucking around with them at this point. “Lucky for you punks, I’m not leaving until the party is over. But if I don’t see the money before then, I won’t hesitate to send my pimp after you.” Patrick warned, hoping they were ignorant about this stuff enough to not call that bluff.

“Please, like we haven’t had that happen before.” William waved a hand. “You’ll get your money, just shut up and go back to uncle dearest. We’ll handle the rest ourselves.”

Patrick glared slightly before loudly and forcefully zipping up his pants. Then, without another word he turned around and out of the cabin. He went back to the main cabin and found clothes draped on the bed that was now neatly made. Patrick figured it was Edward who had tidied up some, maybe even picked out his shirt and jacket. It was a light blue button up, a deep blue tie and a black jacket with a matching pocket square.

Nice taste. Patrick thought as he put it on. Something caught his eye as he put on his jacket, a white piece of paper that was folded with Bud’s name on it in cursive writing. He opened it and read it to himself.

_Bud,_

_I am sorry I could not have discussed payment and gratitude to you properly. Even more apologetic for the fact I can already assume you are dealing with the misfortune that is my brothers’ company, regardless of the activity. Rest assured, while I may not know exact rates you uphold, I’ve accounted for your services with them. You can find a small envelope of cash in your discarded shoe, if you haven’t noticed it already. If the amount is still subpar, please do try to find me in the main foyer. I have to wait there until my brothers arrive anyway, they claimed to have wanted to meet me there at this time._

_Thank you for making tonight a pleasurable memory._

_Sincerely, Edward_

Patrick pocketed the note and looked around to find his dress shoes. They were neatly placed on the bedside floor as if he were the owner of it. In them, like the note promised, was a blank envelope that he picked up and opened. Patrick’s eyes widened when he found three thousand dollar bills. He didn’t even know they printed those. He shoved them back into the envelope and carefully placed it inside his jacket pocket.

_It’s a simple exchange. Nothing more._ He told himself as he thought back to the twin’s plot against Edward. Every instinct in Patrick was telling him to just take the money and run. But he had an obligation to stay as long as the music was still playing. If he didn’t, he was sure to hear about it from his club owner at a later time.

Patrick emerged from the cabin deck below and slipped back into the party. He was relieved to see the party was still bustling. He knew then that there was bound to be someone else to distract himself with. Patrick could finally focus on being some rich guy’s arm piece.

His efforts, however, were not as fruitful as he had hoped. Patrick was a socialite and a flirt, a very dangerous combination. But it seemed no one wanted a single bite of him. Patrick was about to go nuts before he saw Edward talking to his brothers from across the room. He gave a small sigh and approached the three of them.

“Hello boys…” Patrick greeted, smiling playfully.

“Heeey, it’s our plaything!” William and George latched onto Patrick instantly, eager to have someone new to play with.

“Sorry the delay, but here’s that money you needed. You know, to pay for that dry cleaning you needed?” George slipped what looked to be around five hundred dollars into Patrick’s pocket. “So sorry for the mixup.”

“Hey, speaking of mixup, have you met our little brother Eddie? He’s a bit tipsy but he’s bundles of fun.” William shoved the other osprey who seemed to stumble a bit. “Eddie! C’mon introduce yourself!”

Edward’s face was flushed and his expression seemed quite miserable. If the small hiccups and glass of whiskey in his hand were any indication, it seemed as though Patrick was a bit too late to even attempt to help prevent his intoxication. He glanced over and gave a small wave. “E-Edward Os...pwey...nice to-” He swallowed and shook his head, vision spinning. “N-nice to meet you…”

Decidedly, Patrick pocketed the money further into his jacket. He wasn’t going to turn down extra cash. He mildly wondered if he should do this more often. Turning to Edward, Patrick gave a small nod. “Charmed... “ Patrick found himself worried about what they’d do to him next, so he turned to the twins. “Oh man, he’s super cute… You mind if I… take him below deck…?” he asked, sharing a devious look between them.

“You...want _Eddie_?” After staring at each other, the pair began to laugh loudly and obnoxiously, clinging to each other and the edge of a nearby table to stay upright. Edward seemed to recoil at their loud sounds, cradling his head and putting his glass aside.

“Oh-Oh you can have him all you want but _this_ guy?” William pointed to Edward. “Is an absolute _virgin_, so good luck with _that_!”

“Even if he wasn’t such a goodie fucking two shoes to even consider a one night stand, you’d have to try and get the stick out of his ass before you could even _think_ about sticking a dick up it!” George patted Patrick’s back. “But please, don’t let us stop you if you want to enjoy the sight of him drunk like this. It’s a _riot_!”

Patrick moved to take Edward and gently guide him away. “That’s alright… virgins get a special discount.” he smiled back before walking away from the twins.

After carefully leading Edward down the steps, Patrick eyed one of the security guards before they opened up another cabin for them. He had been working at his strip club long enough, and indulging in the nightlife himself, to know how to care for Edward in this state.

When he took off Edward’s jacket and ascot he propped him up on the bed slightly before he went into the attached bathroom. Patrick rummaged through it and emerged with a glass of water as well as the bathroom’s trash bin to the bedside.

Patrick went back inside and ran some cold water over a hand towel. He moved to place it on Edward’s forehead. He kept telling himself he wouldn’t be doing this if it hadn’t been for the money. “You feelin’ alright, Eddie boy?” Patrick asked softly.

Edward seemed to stare into his glass of water, seemingly upset with its very reflection. “...I don’t...I don’t d-deserve this…”

“You’re right…” Patrick said with a nod, “You don’t deserve any of the shit your siblings have tried to pull on you. On this night or any other night.”

“N-no, I don’t-” His shoulders seemed to shake. “I don’t deserve your concern...or your time- or _anyone’s_ time! I-I hardly deserve my life…I was never meant to be born...”

Patrick looked a bit surprised to hear that, but he was now determined to make Edward feel at least a little better. “Well you’re here anyway, aren’t you? Don’t you want to make the most of it?” he asked.

“I live to serve my mother and father’s w-wishes...keep my brothers in line and f-find a family to be given away to…” He drank his water, exhaling a shaky breath as tears were forming in his eyes. Edward was mumbling to himself at this point, deep in a state of angst. “I must make up for father’s mistakes...can’t embarrass the family name more than I do…”

“Man, _fuck_ that…” Patrick told him simply, frustration in his voice. He shrugged off his jacket and loosened his tie. “I wouldn’t even be here if I did everything my parents wanted from me. And I’d go crazy if I had to fix my dad’s mistakes. Don’t do it, you’ll only torture yourself.”

Patrick then removed his shoes, got up on the bed beside Edward and took his water away to set it on the nightstand. “C’mon… bring it in,” Patrick said as he gestured for Edward to cuddle with him. So much for being an arm piece, I’m now going to be this weepy beefcake’s body pillow, Patrick thought to himself.

Edward looked at him for a moment before shifting to lie down next to him, resting his head on Patrick’s chest and quietly crying. He didn’t say much for a while, his head full of doubtful and self hating thoughts that often came when he was drunk like this. Eventually, he pushed Patrick gently.

“G-go...you don’t owe me this...don’t let me be your burden too, Bud…”

Patrick gave a small sigh but he did what he was asked. He kissed Edward’s forehead moments before he sat up and dragged himself out of the bed. He silently dressed himself and lingered a little while he adjusted his tie.

“I hope you can learn to live for yourself one day, Edward...” was all Patrick said before finally leaving the room.

Edward quietly cried himself to sleep there, until the party was over. By the time the guards escorted him out and his brothers dragged him back home, his mind was a complete blank. Unaware of everything that had occurred, and unable to argue when his parents berated him for being careless.

Perhaps some day he would find someone that would help him love himself and recognize his worth outside his family name. Similarly, perhaps Patrick would find someone who understood him completely and would put him above all else. Regardless of these hypothetical futures, it was clear that what these two vastly different people had on the yacht would remain as fleeting could-have-been.

It worked out best to forget.

—

“Patrick we need to talk,” Liquidator came to him one night before he left work for another night out on the town.

The mutant nearly scared Patrick out of his skin. He didn’t think he’d ever get used to Bud practically materializing out of thin air. Patrick held his chest and steadied his breathing.

“What the fuck do you want?” Patrick asked, feeling annoyed.

“Our figures have been going down, thanks to your devil-may-care attitude,” Liquidator told him as he swirled around Patrick in a menacing manner.

“Oh? And you’re _sure_ it wasn’t because of the _other_ board member you killed a few months back?” Patrick pointed out.

“You’re the one who called the shot.” Liquidator said.

“_No_. I wanted to rough him up because he was asking some questions, you and your goons decided to murder him for me. That’s the second one to date.” Patrick glared at him now. 

“Regardless, there are now rumors going around that I was at some kind of gay yacht orgy and, unsurprisingly, our stocks are dropping.” Liquidator retaliated. He pressed a finger deep into Patrick’s broad chest. “You aren’t doing your job properly.”

“You said—“

“You're getting an assistant to reign you in.” Liquidator told him.

“I don’t _need_—“

Liquidator even got closer to Patrick, staring him down muzzle to muzzle. “In case you forgot, Easton, I _own_ you. I said that I don’t care who you fuck or what you do. But believe you me, I start to care as soon as it makes me or my company look _bad_.”

“_Looking bad_ is using my name to attend a party and then acting like a prostitute for the incestious sons of a trading company!” Liquidator roared. “..._Honestly_, Patrick... if you needed more spending money, you could have just asked.”

It interested Patrick that Liquidator knew those smaller details, but he knew better than to ask. “...To be fair, they never fucked each other, they were too busy fucking m—“

“Patrick!” Liquidator yelled.

Patrick flinched terribly at the sound and remained quiet. Liquidator had never hit Patrick and yet he reacted like he was going to. Liquidator chose to ignore this as he slipped down onto the floor once more. Patrick was half tempted to kick up some of his water while he watched it slink away. 

—

Pam was a reminder. She didn’t know it— because Liquidator forced Patrick to interview her —but she was a reminder that Liquidator was the one calling the shots. That he hardly had any agency over his life. Not anymore.

Pam didn’t want to be there any more than Patrick did and he could tell. She smacked gum at her desk as she did crosswords and he could hear it even behind his closed doors. Pam hardly ever did what she was supposed to, but the one thing she did was keep a schedule. She was good at that, at least.

Patrick didn’t like her. And because of his attitude towards her, she threw it right back at him tenfold. He was hoping she would leave town because of it. Drive her just as crazy so he’d be able to shake her off. But her grip only seemed to tighten.

“Pam, I never got my coffee for my nine o’clock—“ Patrick started as he approached his office doors.   
  
Patrick stopped dead in his tracks when he saw her sipping on a Starducks coffee cup with the name “Bud” written on it, glaring him down. 

“Ah, it looks like you got it... Never mind then.” He said lamely before walking through to his office. Patrick peaked back out, “Hey be sure to get the low-fat option next time, you look like you could stand to lose the weight.” 

The next day, he had twenty low-fat Starducks concoctions on his desk. It was more apparent to Patrick than ever that in order to keep living his comfortable lifestyle, he needed to get back into Liquidator’s good graces.

But how?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The brothers are not incestious towards each other, but they still v much had sex with Patrick and that’s a fact. Ngl it makes me very uneasy but it’s still definitely something that Patrick would do for the hell of it so it is what it is.


End file.
